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Andrew looks out the window, frowning slightly. The alleyway looks just the same as it did three minutes ago: puddles in the uneven ground from the rain an hour ago, shitty posters peeling off the walls and curling up at the edges, and empty except for some broken down pallets near the entrance. No Aaron.
On the opposite side of the van, Neil is carving notches into a stake and ignoring Andrew’s growing disquiet. Andrew is not naïve enough to think he hasn’t noticed. It’s an unfortunate truth that Andrew’s knack for seeing through Neil is not a one-way street. If Neil isn’t pushing the issue right now, it’s because he doesn’t see the purpose in doing so, not that he hasn’t realised the issue to begin with.
He’s annoying like that.
“Kills?” Andrew asks. He raises an eyebrow. Neil has a tendency to run his mouth, but that seems a little predictable. The paint-by-numbers version of a monster hunter.
“Hockey scores,” Neil says. Of course.
Andrew adds a few percentage points to the internal count he keeps for Neil’s crimes against him.
“How silly of me,” he says flatly, then turns the dial on the radio. Even at its low volume, the hum of one of Nicky’s favourite pop songs makes its way through the run-down speakers, staticky-saccharine. Neil makes a face at Andrew, who ignores it, looking out the window once again.
“He should be back by now,” Andrew says.
The expression on Neil’s face suggests he’s less concerned than Andrew is, but he obligingly looks at the clock. Then his brow furrows.
“Hm,” he says, which Andrew translates as okay, you’re right, this is weird, but I don’t want to say anything that could be construed as concern. There are moments when Andrew thinks his team’s interpersonal idiosyncrasies are more likely to send him into an early grave than the actual hunting will. This is one of them.
He rolls his eyes at Neil, then looks at the key in the ignition. He hums, deliberating. Then he switches it off.
Neil raises an eyebrow. “Not leaving it running for a quick getaway?” he asks. He’s already pulling together his toolbelt.
Andrew shrugs, hopping out of the driver’s seat.
“It’s a bad neighbourhood,” he says dryly. “Hoodlums about.”
Aaron’s late, but he’s still Aaron. Andrew is checking on him because he’s taking too long to stake some guy, not because he thinks they’re going to be so overwhelmed that they need an escape route. Aaron would never let them be on such a back foot.
Neil grins, catching on immediately. “Heard there was a spike in car-jacking and jaywalking in these parts,” he says casually. “A real hotbed of crime.”
Andrew resists the urge to push at Neil’s face. Hands or lips, dealer’s choice, and both unacceptable.
Neil’s got his picks out when they get to the door, but Andrew shakes his head, inclining his head. It’s still slightly ajar. Neil frowns, but puts them away.
They head into the building, moving quietly as they listen for signs of life.
Meaning Aaron, really, considering what he followed into the warehouse; that doesn’t exactly meet the criteria.
Andrew’s brow is starting to furrow again when suddenly—
“Uh, what?”
That’s Aaron’s voice. Andrew’s expression immediately clears, slowing his pace. His brother sounds nonplussed, not threatened; while Andrew never considers himself off edge, he’s at least reasonably sure they’re not walking into an active fight. Or, at least, not one they need to worry about.
Neil, being Neil, saunters towards where Aaron’s voice came from.
Exhaling low, Andrew falls into step with him, looking to the centre of the room to seek out his brother.
Aaron flicks a glance at them, before returning it to the other occupant of the room. Normally, Andrew would be thrown at his brother’s carelessness—you must never turn your back on a thing that can kill you, Andrew had said solemnly, all those years ago, closing Aaron’s fist around one of his daggers, his brother white-knuckled but firm, steady—but then Aaron holds up a hand to him and Neil. As in, the universal sign for stop.
Andrew blinks.
“Are you playing with your food?” Neil inquires. His hand is resting on the butt of the stake at his hip, those scarred fingers splaying over the recently-etched wood. His expression is mild, but Andrew knows how unsettling his eyes can be. Right now, they’re fixed on Aaron’s little vampire.
Well. Andrew flicks his gaze up to the top of his head, then back to Aaron. Not so little.
“No,” Aaron says slowly. Andrew has known Aaron’s face his entire life, even before he knew it as something that belonged to Aaron too: there are very few things he’s ever seen written across that face that he hasn’t been able to decipher, but he can’t quite put his finger on this emotion. “No, he’s just… really bad at this.”
Aaron is always blunt, but it still startles Neil enough that he snorts. Andrew raises an eyebrow, looking at the vampire. Who looks very put-out at this assessment, not that Aaron seems to care.
“At what, bloodsucking?” Neil asks, curious. He looks like he’s moments away from going up to the vampire to poke at his mouth. Which is not a real risk, but Andrew shifts his stance to prevent it anyway. Just in case.
His life is a lot of just in case, taking care of those he’s claimed as his own.
“Everything,” Aaron says. The vampire’s expression is definitely affronted now. Still, he hasn’t taken a step to try and kill Aaron for his audacity, which suggests Aaron is right. It would be a bad idea, of course, with three of them there, but most monsters Andrew has met are not as smart as they think they are, and vampires tend to think most highly of themselves of all. So it wouldn’t be surprising, is all, if the vampire made a stupid move.
But no, he stays his ground, just looking at Aaron with an expression somewhere between offended and wounded.
“I feel kind of bad,” Aaron adds. “Like staking a baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” the vampire says mutinously.
“That’s up for debate,” Aaron mutters.
“Be honest,” Neil says cajolingly. “I saw your face when we were sniffing out that wolf pack at the dog park. I bet you just want a pet.”
“There’s a big difference between a dog and a vampire,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes.
“Eh,” Neil says. “They both bite. Nicky would approve.”
“Enough,” Andrew says, effectively silencing the sideshow. He’s been watching the vampire the entire time, the way his expression has zinged around like a pinball, mostly oscillating between offended and… intrigued, maybe. “So you will not be staking this vampire, correct?” he asks, turning to face his brother.
Aaron looks at the vampire again. “I have standards,” he says. “When I asked him the last time he fed, he complained that arterial bleeds are messy and started ranting about fabric care.”
The expression Neil shoots the vampire’s way is predictably disdainful. Andrew thinks Neil could probably stand to learn more about fabric care.
“I’m not willing to vouch for his personality or competence,” Aaron says, looking at Andrew. “But I’m pretty confident he’s not the one terrorising this neighbourhood.”
“Hm,” is all Andrew says, but he gives the vampire another once-over. He glances to the corner, inclining his head towards it. “Come, bloodsucker of the day. Let’s chat.”
The vampire throws Aaron a concerned look—interesting, that he’s already decided to latch onto the human whose sole interaction with him has only been to choose not to kill him; it’s not exactly a high bar to clear—but Aaron just shrugs, flicking his fingers towards the corner. Predictably, the vampire does not look pleased by this response, but –
He obeys anyway.
Andrew looks at Neil and his brother, Neil’s expression amused, Aaron’s flat. He shrugs slightly, then heads to the corner. Time to interrogate the vampire.
-:-
So now they have a pet vampire.
-:-
If Riko could see him now, Kevin thinks morosely as he stares at his muddy boots, he’d laugh himself silly.
Or maybe he’d stake him.
It had been hard to tell, towards the end.
They’re a strange crew, these monster hunters that decided to take in a vampire. Nicky, the twins’ cousin, had squeaked when they first got back to the base and he set his eyes on Kevin. He’d recovered remarkably quickly, soon switching into a mode of mindless chatter that made Kevin long for a coffin, but not without a quick hissed what?! to Aaron, which had been answered only with a shrug.
Nicky’s—Kevin doesn’t know what Erik is, exactly. Neil called him Nicky’s roommate once, Nicky called him his husband and then three minutes later used the same title on some television doctor with floppy hair, Andrew said something ridiculous about being a language-learning opportunity, and Erik himself said paramour, of all things. The one time Aaron made reference to it was an offhand mention of ‘boyfriend’, which Kevin mostly goes with.
Kevin usually finds it easiest to go with whatever Aaron’s option is.
Anyway, Erik had been even calmer about it than Nicky. Which was kind of weird, for Kevin, but Andrew said he’s a real estate agent in a low, confiding-type tone, as if that was supposed to explain anything. Neil had just nodded sagely at that when Kevin had looked to him for help, so maybe it was. Kevin doesn’t get it.
As best as Kevin can tell, Andrew is the ringleader of this little troupe. He’s not actually sure Erik is even part of it.
Andrew had surveyed him so long that first day that Kevin had thought he’d override his brother and stake him—which, no thanks—but even avoiding that, the other option wasn’t much better. Kevin hadn’t been kidding when he’d complained to Aaron about the drawbacks of hunting. Jean had never told him about the mess.
Though, thinking about how Jean fed, maybe he hadn’t known. Or maybe he’d tried to spare Kevin’s ears.
Kevin doesn’t know. All he knows is, now he runs with this troupe: a vampire adopted by vampire hunters. It’d probably make a good punch line in Nicky’s hands. Kevin is not very funny, though.
“Not vampire hunters,” Neil says once.
“What?”
“Not everything is about you,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes. They’re teaching Kevin how to do laundry, which mostly means Aaron is teaching him while Neil heckles Kevin. (For the record, Kevin understands colour separation, and he’s willing to bet his knowledge on the matter is better than Neil’s. He’s just not so used to being the actual hands carrying it out, is all.)
“Expand your thinking,” Neil says when Aaron doesn’t elaborate. He’s swinging his legs, his heels driving into the base of the shorn-tree trunk he’s sitting on. “It’s an open market.”
Kevin shoots a look at Aaron for help, who sighs.
“Monster hunting,” he says, wringing out a large shirt that can only be Erik’s. It’s not Kevin’s, Nicky’s clothes are exclusively offensive to the eyes, and everyone else in their vicinity is the size of a garden gnome. “Not just vampires.”
So: Andrew is their ringleader, armed to the teeth with blades hidden in all his armbands, the one they all look to when a final call is to be made. Kevin wonders if they’ve noticed the way he looks back: like he’s just waiting for them to ask for something, like there’s some ground he’s willing to give, if they really want it.
Kevin only knows what it looks like because he knows Riko, who sometimes looked at Kevin that way, but never Jean.
Neil is mouthy, and more mildly antagonistic than Kevin quite knows what to do with, but he has decent taste in hockey teams and an avidly competitive spirit that makes something in Kevin’s chest come back to life. When they all take it upon themselves to do a weapons training with Kevin—though none of these will beat your natural ones, Aaron says, before rolling his eyes and prodding at Kevin’s fangs when Kevin tilts his head in askance—Kevin’s aim is, naturally, the most precise. Andrew makes a vague noise that Kevin thinks is probably approval, Aaron rolls his eyes and mutters something about digging out an old archery set, Nicky claps, but Neil—
Neil’s eyes narrow, then go wide and pleased.
“Oh, great,” Aaron says, clocking this.
Andrew’s expression goes decidedly flat, then says to Neil, “Knock yourself out.”
Which turns out to mean that Kevin is now Neil’s to train with. The cousins seem to consider this a fate worse than death, but Kevin’s done both, and he’ll take Neil any day. He likes feeling good at something again, and Neil likes to push boundaries. Kevin’s never really explored his full physical capabilities—hasn’t had a chance, not really—but Neil has made it his mission to find out, sometimes dragging a belligerent Aaron along to note some things down. Andrew often watches during these moments, sitting cross-legged and sharpening weapons, or sometimes texting.
“Renee,” Aaron supplies when Kevin asks. “She’s his only friend.”
Andrew does not deny this. Nicky does, though. “I don’t know, I think Betsy counts.”
“She’s a shrink who talks to ghosts,” Aaron says. “There’s even more wrong with her than Renee.”
“Renee is a saint,” Nicky says, choosing to explain things to Kevin instead of respond to Aaron. “Like, maybe literally?”
“Not literally,” Neil says.
“She’s a hippie who won’t stake anything, but she’s the only one who can lay a finger on him in a fight,” Aaron says, jerking over his shoulder at Andrew.
There’s something curious about the expression on Andrew’s face when he looks at his brother, almost like he’s waiting for something. The moment passes, and he shrugs at Kevin. “She’s born again,” Andrew stage-whispers. “Bets are still on as to whether that’s metaphorical or literal.” Before Kevin can even begin to react to that, Andrew adds thoughtfully, “She’s also the only one with useful input on the zombie apocalypse plan. And a one-stop holy water shop.”
Aaron rolls his eyes. He does that a lot.
He’s a little harder to describe. Well. No, that’s not true. He’s the one who paused before staking a vampire, who fetches Kevin when he gets stuck staring at the river on the edge of the bank, who is never exactly nice but still helps Kevin anyway.
He’s a medic who Kevin once watched swing a baseball bat so hard he took off a gargoyle’s head before it could crush Andrew within its grasp, then turned to Neil to say, “Europeans? That’s on you.”
Neil had stuck out his tongue. Andrew had ignored both of them to flick a dagger between the eyes of a reanimated scarecrow.
“What’s that going to do?” Kevin had wanted to know. Andrew had given him a flat look, then gestured rudely. Have at it.
So Kevin had.
Maybe it’s not that hard to describe Aaron, really. He’s the one Kevin pays most attention to. Jean would have called that a miracle in and of itself.
Andrew and Neil are investigating a disturbance on the edge of a nearby town, Nicky and Erik are having date night, and Kevin is wandering around this base they call home, looking for Aaron.
It’s an abandoned manufacturing plant, all the way on the edge of civilisation. This had put Kevin out at first, until Aaron had demanded, “What do you have to complain about? You’re dead.”
Tactful, Aaron Minyard is not. Still, he was right, so Kevin had – not stopped complaining, obviously, but had at least meant it less.
Kevin wanders around the grounds, taking care to skirt the forest. There’s nothing wrong with the forest—though one time he ran into a werewolf in there and almost ripped his head off, before Neil had jogged over, calling, “Matt, he’s with us!” Kevin had been a little affronted that Neil seemed to think Matt was a bigger threat than Kevin—vampires obviously beat overgrown dogs, be serious—but mostly just relieved. Like he’d told Aaron, hunting is messy.
So, there’s nothing wrong with the forest, occasional werewolf visitor aside, but through the forest, you get to the river.
After last time, when he’d been stuck there for hours until Aaron had found him and guided him back, he’s not ready to risk it.
He’s on his third lap of the building when he spots Aaron: sitting on the fire escape, probably two stories up, a notebook pressed against his thigh. He’s seesawing a pen between his fingers. Kevin recognises it as the one he’s normally got in his pocket, some sort of dentistry practice. It’s always looked cheap to him, the sort you just get from a business’ marketing scheme, but Aaron seems to like it.
Aaron is also looking right at Kevin, lips quirking up at the left corner.
Kevin scowls. So he just watched Kevin look for him. Hmph. Fine.
Instead of fucking off or entering the fire escape the traditional way, Kevin takes a running jump and launches himself up, catching on the railing beside Aaron.
“Jesus fuck,” Aaron swears, then huffs. “Warn a guy next time.”
“I thought you were pretending not to be here,” Kevin retorts.
Aaron rolls his eyes, but there’s something amused in the set of his mouth. Kevin finds his own lips quirking in response. He easily clambers over the rail, finding his feet on the fire escape. Leaning down, he picks up Aaron’s pen. It must have fallen when he got startled.
He offers it up. “L. M. Mackenzie,” he reads, tilting it towards Aaron. “Good dentist?”
“Probably,” Aaron says, shrugging, before pocketing the pen. Kevin frowns—he’s just carrying around a pen for a dentist he never even went to?—but then Aaron clears his throat. “Erik picked up the new murder mystery box set at the video rental yesterday,” he says, then raises an eyebrow.
Kevin can’t help the grin this time. He’s spent enough time with Aaron to recognise an invitation when he hears one.
“You have to do archery with me again if I win,” he says. Ever since Aaron first introduced him to episodic murder mysteries, they’ve had a bit of a standing challenge, where whoever guesses the most killers correctly first wins. Last time, Kevin had made them finish an entire season in one day so he could get enough right to overtake Aaron’s early success and eke out the win. Aaron had almost staked him for it, but that’s okay. Kevin likes winning.
“Ugh, you know Neil will do it with you whenever you want,” Aaron complains, but he gets to his feet.
Kevin shrugs. “Nah, he’d ditch me for Andrew,” he says, and then, grinning a little wider, “Besides, I want you to do it with me.”
Aaron eyes him, but he doesn’t chase that thought down, just hums. “Whatever,” he says, and then, “But we’re only watching until the others are back or it’s dinner time. No pouty bullshit this time!”
“Who’s Katelyn?” Kevin asks one day.
He’s been wondering for a while. Nicky’s mentioned her a few times, mostly in an offhand way, usually when reminiscing over some anecdote Kevin wasn’t around for. Andrew has never said her name, and neither has Aaron, but it’s different, somehow. Andrew’s never seemed to acknowledge it at all, even when Nicky’s telling a story he was ostensibly present for. Aaron’s refusal is more like a closed fist. Something clenched tight, white-knuckled, held in place.
It was Neil that made him wonder. The three of them had been stuck in an abandoned hideout due to a half-smashed van—Andrew chasing down something in the shadows of the city streets with Renee and one of her friends for backup—and Aaron had been bleeding out.
“You’re low on supplies,” Neil had realised. Aaron hadn’t been meeting his eyes, clearly thinking furiously, but Neil’s hadn’t wavered from his face. “Aaron, how long?”
“I’m not low,” Aaron had snapped back. “They just got fucking ruined when that asshole giant threw our van into a water tank.”
“Aaron,” Neil had said again. Aaron had flapped a hand impatiently in his face. Kevin had done his best not to inhale.
“I’m thinking, shut up,” Aaron had said.
Neil had been quiet for approximately six and a half seconds before he’d said, “Katelyn would have supplies.”
“No.” Aaron’s tone had been forbidding, but Neil hadn’t been deterred.
“She’s close by and you are bleeding out next to a vampire,” Neil had argued back. “Now is not the time—”
“Vampire,” Aaron had interrupted. Neil had stared at him, but Aaron had impatiently shoved his head out of the way, making eye contact with Kevin. “You can close wounds too, can’t you?”
“You’re out of your mind,” Neil had said, catching onto Aaron’s idea a second before Kevin did. “No. What? I thought you had a gash, not an aneurysm. That’s not a solution.”
“You threw yourself in front of a knife for Allison once,” Aaron had retorted. “Glass houses.”
“That’s not fair to Kevin,” Neil had said doggedly. “He’s a vampire, and one I suspect has been starving himself recently.” It had been true enough—it wasn’t intentional, but it had been a while since Kevin had fed. The twins were usually the ones most likely to notice and do something about it, but they’d all been stuck in high-pressure situations the last few days.
Aaron’s eyes had found Kevin’s. “That’s all right. Kevin won’t hurt me, will you?”
Neil had made some sort of noise, but all Kevin could focus on was Aaron. The way his eyes had stayed steady on Kevin’s, unflinching, almost a challenge.
Heart in his throat, he’d nodded slowly. He didn’t know if he could keep that promise, but at the same time, he had to. Aaron had said he would, had dared him to, and Kevin – he couldn’t let him down.
“Aaron,” Neil had snapped, exasperated, and Aaron had finally looked at him.
“And you wouldn’t let him even if he couldn’t help himself,” Aaron had said, glaring at Neil.
Neil’s mouth had gone to a thin line. “Whatever,” he’d said finally. “Your funeral.” But Kevin hadn’t missed the way he’d shifted, in line with them, his hand going right to the stake on his hip.
Aaron had shifted then, adjusting position to give Kevin better access to his thigh. The way his breath had hitched before exhaling in a sharp wince had not escaped Kevin’s notice. “It’s a bigger cut than you’re used to, I’m sure,” Aaron had said, then quirked his lips to the side. “Sorry for the mess.”
“I think I’ll forgive you this once,” Kevin had said thickly. He’d stared at Aaron’s thigh, at the mess of red, the pulpiness of it. Fuck.
“Running out of time,” Neil had muttered, and Aaron had grimaced, gritting his teeth, so Kevin had steeled himself. Then he had lowered his head towards Aaron’s crotch.
Aaron had smelled – inviting. It had been the worst thing to ever happen to Kevin, which, in hindsight, could not possibly have been true, but it had felt that way at the time. He’d inhaled, and beneath the overwhelming scent of Aaron’s blood was just Aaron, warm and bright and alive.
Kevin had inhaled once more, and then sunk his teeth into Aaron’s thigh. There had been a shifting to his side, probably Neil, but Kevin hadn’t cared. Kevin couldn’t care. All he could think about was the softness of Aaron’s skin, the warmth of the blood rushing into his mouth, and the sudden giddiness coursing through him, blood-drunk.
Then Aaron’s hand had landed in his hair, an anchoring presence, and Kevin had opened his eyes, remembering himself. It had taken the most effort since he’d dragged himself out of Evermore, insane and impossible but irrefutable, but he brought his tongue up to lick along the gash in Aaron’s leg. He slowly extracted his fangs, running his tongue over those incision points, watching with satisfaction as they closed over, the skin going pink and tender and sealed. He dipped forward again, licking at—even sucking—Aaron’s wounded skin, lapping up the blood and humming as he felt the skin knit itself back together beneath his lips.
He’d been so fucking relieved it worked, was the thing. That Aaron had been right, that he could do this, both that he’d had the ability to do it and the willpower. He’d been pleased that Aaron was right, that Aaron was going to be okay, and blood-drunk on top of all that.
So maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, the way he’d paused over Aaron’s scar-in-motion, then pressed a kiss in the centre of it. He hadn’t been sure if Neil had noticed—he’d been watching carefully, but Kevin’s hair had fallen partially into his face, potentially masking him—but there was no way Aaron hadn’t felt it.
His cheeks had felt warm. He’d forgotten, even with only a small dose, the way it would flush him with colour again, even if only briefly.
Aaron had surveyed him, eyes dark and intent, but he hadn’t said anything. Instead, he’d turned to Neil to say, “No stake required.”
Neil had rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Get more supplies.”
Then he’d somersaulted out of their hiding spot, back on the prowl now that the immediate danger to Aaron had passed.
Aaron had looked at Kevin then, tilting his head. “Are you still thirsty?” he’d asked.
Kevin had licked his lips—a subconscious movement, but it had brought the taste of Aaron back to the forefront and he’d swallowed, hard.
“You’re suffering blood loss as it is,” he’d said, the words clunky in his mouth. Awkward, too-gentle.
“That’s not an answer,” Aaron had said, narrowing his eyes, but Kevin had looked at him.
“Isn’t it?” he’d murmured, before slipping past him, to stand at the edge. “Stay here.” Aaron had opened his mouth, undoubtedly to protest, but Kevin had said, “I’ll check on Neil. He’s probably got it covered, but – we’ll be back soon.” He’d paused, then, before leaving their little tucked-away niche completely, he’d said, “I’m glad you’re okay. Please stay still and don’t faint. Neil will be more annoying to argue with if you’re not awake to gang up on him with me.”
Aaron’s eyes had flashed with something, maybe amusement, but Kevin hadn’t stayed to identify it. He hadn’t dared.
So.
The whole experience is seared into his brain at this point, the kind of memory he could slip into seamlessly, but that’s – dangerous. He can’t look at it directly, not the Aaron of it all.
So his mind keeps catching on other things. Like Neil’s first desperate suggestion, the one Aaron shot down so absolutely.
Aaron looks at him, eyes careful. “Where’d you hear that name?”
“Nicky, sometimes,” Kevin says slowly. Then, after a long beat, “Neil. That time – with the van.” He taps on his own thigh, marking his point of entry into Aaron’s body, like a reflection.
Then he curses himself for framing it that way, because now he’s thinking about him and Aaron and bodies and points of entry and –
“That was a longshot,” Aaron mutters darkly, clearly thinking about Neil’s supplies plan again.
“So was your plan,” Kevin points out.
Something in the air shifts. Aaron looks at him and says, “Only to you two. I wasn’t worried.”
Kevin swallows, throat thick.
Something crinkles to their left. It’s probably a leaf, or some errant litter, or whatever other fucking random happenstance in their surroundings: definitely not anything important, but it manages to break the moment anyway.
Aaron looks in the direction of the noise, and says, quieter than Kevin’s used to hearing him, “She’s someone I used to know.”
Something tells Kevin not to ask. He does anyway.
“What happened?”
There’s something faraway about Aaron’s voice when he says, “Andrew killed a vampire for the first time.”
-:-
It’s one of those days, by which Neil means there’s a nest so large in a hotel that when an on-site demon-summoning ritual goes wrong, the energy signature is so completely off the charts that every hunting group in a twenty mile radius immediately makes their way over.
Naturally, this includes Neil’s group. Renee and Matt are in the thick of it too, he thinks, but he can’t tell if any of the others Wymack’s ever taken in are there.
For some reason, there are about twenty Californians there too.
“We’re here on a conference! At the centre down the road!” Catalina Alvarez—knows Renee through something or other, which means Andrew has retained her name and all biographical details possibly required as leverage in case of needing information about a hypothetically-missing Renee—cheerfully yells as she –
Neil blinks. Is she … zip-tying a witch’s hands?
Before he can begin to worry about whether they’ve accidentally ended up in a fight with a bunch of pacifists—he knew the Trojans were reasonably well-liked in the communities, but that’s just ridiculous—for back up, a movement across the room catches his attention.
Neil’s eyes widen as he watches one of the hunters from the Trojans lift a crossbow—aim it at Kevin’s chest—
Neil is across the room, and he’s fast, but Aaron is faster.
“Not him,” he snarls, kicking at the hunter’s wrist with enough force that something runs the risk of cracking. “He’s with us.”
The Trojan is a little too busy hyperventilating to do too much about it—seriously, for such a big name crew, the so-called Sunshine Court, named for the lack of vampirism in their grounds, Neil thinks they’re being a baby—but Kevin is looking at Aaron, mouth parted. Just a little, but Neil knows that look.
He groans. If they weren’t in a fight, he’d bury his head in his hands, but unlike certain other people he could name, he’s always very aware of his surroundings. There are too many ferals running around unstaked for him to do anything to risk his vision, but still. Emotionally, that’s where he’s at.
Andrew is going to pitch a fit.
“You know, I don’t know why he was so surprised,” Cat says thoughtfully, chewing on a banana while Aaron bandages up her knee. Neil is mostly trying to figure out where she got a banana from. “Like, it’s not a new concept.”
“Pet vampires aren’t new?” Neil asks dryly.
Laila, against whose legs Cat is leaning, shakes her head. “Not exactly the terminology I’d use,” she says, “but no, not new. Not for us.”
Aaron—who left the person who nearly shot Kevin to Renee and Matt’s care—looks up at that. “You guys had a vampire here?” he asks, tilting his head. “I didn’t notice anyone other than Kevin.”
“There’s a shock,” Neil mutters. Aaron flicks out his fist, rapping Neil on the shin.
“On our side of the fight, dickhead,” Aaron snaps back.
Before Neil gets a chance to retort, there’s a movement to their left—a parting of people, Trojans making way. Once Neil sees who’s coming, all possible responses fall right out of his head.
“Jean?” he demands.
There he is, Jean Moreau, the world’s most oversized shadow to the Sunshine Court’s leader. It’s been – ages. Neil’s trying to remember the last time he saw Jean—maybe the only time he’s ever met Jeremy before, even?—when suddenly –
Kevin’s standing in front of them all, eyes wide, fingers flexing on his left hand. Open. Closed. Open. Neil watches Aaron frown at it, shifting like he’s going to reach out, catch his hand.
“Jean?” Kevin asks, sounding stunned.
Neil’s eyebrows shoot up. Aaron pauses. Jeremy looks strangely delighted.
And Jean huffs, meeting Neil’s eyes—Kevin’s eyes—then glancing over towards the crowd, finding Renee’s.
“The universe allowing these two to cross paths is the strongest argument yet against a loving Creator,” he says flatly.
In the silence that follows, Neil can hear the sounds of Renee’s laughter and Andrew’s snort.
-:-
In a perfect world, someone else would be on Kevin duty today.
“You are literally a vampire,” Aaron grouses. “You don’t need sleep. How the fuck are you so bad at getting here on time?”
“I am immortal,” Kevin says patiently, as if what he’s about to say is reasonable instead of—undoubtedly—infuriating. “Time is irrelevant.”
Yep, Aaron was right. Fucking infuriating.
“I will stake you,” he grumbles, then wraps his hand around Kevin’s wrist. “Come on, we’re already late.”
It’s kind of a pattern.
Kevin is wanted somewhere, but nobody wants to wrangle him, which means Aaron is always outvoted and sent to do it.
The reasons, as follows:
“He’s less bitchy if you do it,” Neil says.
“I will stab him,” Andrew says.
“Erik’s not a hunter if Kevin gets bitey in the morning,” Nicky says. “And apparently I upset Kevin in the mornings.”
“It’s too early for Nicky,” Kevin agrees, pulling Aaron into bed. “I’m still sleeping. Shh.”
“You are a vampire,” Aaron snaps, shoving at Kevin’s face until he makes a low, groaning noise that sends the blood rushing to Aaron’s ears. “Why are you sleeping at all?!”
(That marks the first and only time Aaron tries to pull Kevin out of bed by shaking his arm. After that, he just drags the mattress off the bed. He’s not risking any repeats.)
Aaron doesn’t really mind.
Well, he could do without the wrangling responsibility. Kevin’s extremely good at being extremely annoying.
But spending time with Kevin’s not so bad. It’s actually pretty fun sometimes, even though he’s a sore loser who would rather run Aaron ragged and force him to watch every episode of the latest boxset just to try engineer a win for himself rather than cede Aaron his rightful victory. Drama queen.
Aaron kind of likes it, these days. The routine of it: dragging Kevin around when needed, or Kevin coming to find him when there’s no task to do and Kevin just wants to see him. It happens – often. More often than Aaron would have predicted, back at the start.
The time he’d found Kevin by the river had been the longest he’d gone without seeing Kevin or knowing where he was. It had been a disquieting realisation, but nothing like finding him there, staring at the rushing water, unable to move away from the edge of the bank, but unable to move towards it either. Just – stuck. A sitting duck.
It had made something churn unpleasantly in Aaron’s stomach, thinking about what could have happened had a less friendly creature than Matt been roaming the woods, or a different hunting group, or anything at all.
Oh, he thinks, struck with the realisation. He knows what that is.
He’s feeling protective. Of Kevin Day. A goddamn vampire. One that is currently fucking pouting, even, because it turns out he’s known Jean Moreau longer than he’s known almost anybody, and Jean is here, but Jean is spending time with Neil instead of Kevin. He’s not subtle, so Aaron would have put it together himself anyway, but he knows this is why Kevin is sulking because he’s even said so in not so many words.
Yeah, that’s the vampire Aaron is apparently feeling protective over.
Of all the cosmic jokes that’ve been played on him in his life, Aaron thinks, this one is probably the most ridiculous.
Still, he thinks, running his fingers over the healed scar tissue from when Kevin saved him, like the way Kevin’s tongue ran over that very same skin – still, Aaron thinks, he doesn’t really mind.
He thinks about that soft kiss pressed to his leg and the way Kevin’s cheeks had flushed, thinks about the very visible movement of Kevin’s throat as he’d swallowed when Aaron had asked if he was still thirsty, thinks about the way Kevin’s voice had gone soft and quiet, asking Aaron to stay safe.
No, he thinks, ghosting his fingers over the healed scar tissue. Aaron doesn’t mind at all.
-:-
Nicky doesn’t really go on runs with the rest of them anymore, so, naturally, it’s the one time he does that everything goes completely to hell.
Jean is with them too, which is probably the only reason it doesn’t go worse, but Andrew has a dagger in his stomach, Neil is limping towards him and has burns on his arms from when was forced to light a demon on fire whilst constrained in its hold, Kevin is tearing out some creature’s throat and Jean –
Jean is standing over Nicky, guarding him from any other stray monsters, while he tries desperately to still Aaron’s convulsions.
“Kevin,” Jean hisses. Kevin does not turn around, so Jean snaps something at him in French. Whatever it was gets his attention, because he throws his opponent fifty feet away and then hurtles towards where Jean, Nicky and Aaron are. Then he stops, frozen, as his eyes catch sight of Aaron’s wound.
“You know what to do,” Jean says. Kevin looks at him, alarmed, but Jean gestures sharply at Aaron.
“He’s not – I’ve never seen a wound like this before,” Nicky says, frantic. “I can’t even touch it, it’s too—”
“Oh, for—move,” Kevin snaps, finally springing into action to pushing Nicky to the side. He’s too—something, distracted or pissed off or afraid or any one of the thousands things it could be, Nicky doesn’t know—to regulate his strength, so Nicky ends up sprawled to the ground. “Hold him back, Neil,” Kevin says, and Nicky blinks at him.
“I don’t need to be hel—” he begins, before he shuts up, looking at Neil, who is not even attempting to restrain Nicky. Instead, he is standing in front of Andrew. He isn’t restraining him—Nicky doesn’t think anything on the planet could make him do that, thinks that Renee or Wymack or Jean would have to be the only possible ports of call for that—but he is in front of him, something wary in his eyes.
“Neil,” Andrew says, voice surprisingly controlled for a man who’s been stabbed. “Move.”
Neil shakes his head. “You can do the math just as well as I can,” he says, voice steady. “You know what’s going to happen here.”
Nicky tears his eyes away from them when he hears Aaron moan. Aaron, his cousin, his baby. Kevin’s got his head in his lap.
It’s funny. This isn’t the time for small thoughts like these, but Kevin’s hands are trembling, and Nicky thinks to himself, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a vampire shake.
“Aaron,” Kevin says, softer than Nicky’s ever heard him do anything. Aaron is convulsing in his lap, though, not answering. His face looks so tight, like his whole body is on tenterhooks, and Nicky wants to rush over there and shove Kevin out of the way, cradle Aaron close to his chest and hold him tight.
They haven’t always had an easy time of it together, but Aaron is his. He can’t look at him like this—suffering—and not feel it rock through him, full-body.
But he’s just Nicky Hemmick, marketing grad and shower karaoke aficionado, just a human who loves his family very much, but that’s not enough when one of them has a smoking wound in his side while a vampire tries to hold him steady with trembling, unholy hands.
Nicky’s no Neil, never had the head for math he does, but even he can figure out how this equation goes.
“Do it,” he says. His voice is hoarse, and cracked, and Kevin is going to do it anyway, he can see the way that hesitation in him is slowly steeling himself, but Nicky can’t save Aaron, can’t do anything for him, so he has to do the only thing he can, and hurry up the only one with a chance in hell.
The thing is, Nicky can’t think of anything worse than being a vampire. Can’t think of anything worse for his loved ones.
Until, apparently, right now.
Maybe on a different night, he could make a different choice. He’s not sure, doesn’t know. But right here, in this moment, he’d rather have a strange, not-quite-right Aaron than learn how to live with no Aaron at all.
Andrew makes an inhuman noise somewhere behind them, but he can’t drag himself close fast enough with his wound, not with Neil standing in his way. Nicky wants to look at him, to make him know he’s not alone, but he can’t tear his eyes from Aaron, the way his wound is making even Kevin hiss when his skin brushes too close, the way his body is going still –
“Kevin.” This time, it’s Neil saying it. “Running out of time.”
For some reason, that makes Kevin flinch, go ramrod-straight. He exhales. Nicky’s always wondered why—it’s not like he needs to breathe—but now is obviously not the time to ask.
Then Aaron’s body—Aaron’s body, Nicky’s already thinking of him like a body, he wants to throw up—jerks and Kevin plunges down swiftly, sinking his teeth into Aaron’s neck.
-:-
Kevin doesn’t regret it.
He has a ring of bruises around his neck that say maybe he should—a ring that should be impossible, given his supernatural durability and lack of active blood vessels running through his body, but Kevin has watched Andrew’s fiercely protective gaze gravitate towards his brother enough times not to question his ability to defy nature’s laws when it comes to his love—but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t really blame Andrew. How can he? It’s not like Kevin’s ever wanted this for Aaron. He doesn’t think Aaron’s going to want it either.
But he wasn’t going to let Aaron die there, so it is what it is. He won’t take back saving him. Not when the alternative would have been too unthinkable to bear.
“You can’t be mad at him forever,” Neil says. He’s quieter than usual, and on the rooftop, where the wind snatches the words right out of your mouth, but Kevin has enhanced senses.
“I will not be told what I can do by a man who still tries to throw away his phone when it rings,” Andrew says.
Neil ignores that, the way he mostly only does from Andrew. “He’s never going to take it back,” he says.
“What good would that do?” Andrew asks. “Remorse will not un-turn my brother.”
“No,” Neil says softly. “It would only mean regretting not letting him die.”
There is a sharp inhale, but Kevin doesn’t stick around to hear any more. He doesn’t want to.
When Aaron first wakes up, clawing his way out of the earth, Jean is there with blood.
It should be Kevin, as the one who turned him, but Jean is more practised at it. That’s what Kevin had said when the conversation had been broached, when Renee of all people had swung by to ask what preparations needed to be done.
Jean has let Kevin away with a lot in his life, but that one, Kevin thinks, probably has a simpler reason: he is more compromised by Aaron than he ought to be, to do something like this.
Predictably, Aaron is not pleased to wake up and find himself amongst the undead. He doesn’t ever say this to Kevin, but that’s because he barely says anything at all to him. He talks to Jean a lot, despite them barely having exchanged any words before, and ends up going on a lot of runs with Neil, when the latter realises Aaron’s increased stamina and newly-optional breathing means all his usual reasons not to exercise together are now moot.
Kevin still does not regret it. An Aaron in motion, even if he avoids Kevin, is still an Aaron that is walking around, an Aaron that still exists. It’s better than nothing. Kevin’s always wanted to win, but he’s learned over the last few years that sometimes you have to make your peace with just learning how not to lose.
So Aaron talks to Jean, and runs with Neil, and does everything else the same, except now he drinks blood sometimes and does not look at Kevin, not anymore.
Until one day he does.
And Kevin remembers what breathing feels like again.
-:-
Jean is not especially fond of being here.
He has enjoyed being reunited with Neil, and as complicated a thing as Kevin can be to him sometimes, his loyalty to him has never wavered. He is pleased to see that he is not only surviving, but thriving – that he’s found this strange group of monster hunters that, face-to-face with a vampire, chose to bring him home instead of turning him to ash.
“He was like a wet puppy,” Aaron says when Jean mentions this once. “Kinda pathetic and sad.” He wrinkles his nose. “Even though he was also being obnoxious.”
“That’s Kevin,” Jean says, sighing. “Ever the over-achiever.”
He has made a new friend in Aaron, he thinks. He likes all of them fine—Andrew seems to have adapted to his presence well, and Nicky and Erik would not go amiss amongst Jean’s own home crowd, his unhinged optimistic Sunshine Court—but he has spent most time with Aaron recently, of all those he hadn’t met before.
“You are a better fledgling than Kevin,” Jean notes.
Aaron raises an eyebrow.
“When he rose from the earth, the first thing he did was critique the sloppy burial,” Jean says. He can hear the faded edge of exasperation in his own tone, still-present but time-worn. “Insufferable as ever, and immortal now too.”
It makes Aaron snort, at least, but Jean hadn’t really been joking. Kevin really had done that. If the thought of living in a world with Riko and no Kevin hadn’t been such a deterrent, Jean would have re-buried him out of sheer spite.
The amusement fades from Aaron’s face, and he tilts his head. It’s a move very similar to his brother’s, Jean thinks.
When Jean had torn Andrew off Kevin, practically flinging him into Renee’s waiting arms, he’d been worried, for half a second, if this would be the end of Kevin’s thriving existence with his strange new home. Jean did not especially want to bring Kevin back with him—for as much as he loves and sticks fast by Kevin, he’s not sure either of them would benefit from living together again, what with all the shattered glass between them—but he had been prepared to, in that moment.
But while Renee whispered urgently in Andrew’s ear, Neil had gone to Kevin, offering him a hand and giving him a critical once-over.
Perhaps it was not the level of care Kevin might have received from Aaron, and certainly it was less gentle than anything Erik or Renee would have offered, but there was no hesitation there, no standing at Andrew’s side and waiting to be let off a leash. Neil had just gone over, and Andrew’s eyes had held no betrayal in them.
Jean had realised that even with his newfound experiences with and knowledge of this group, perhaps there were still more things to understand.
“Has he always been like this?” Aaron asks finally. The head tilt may match his brother’s, but the things he wants to know don’t.
“Unbearable?” Jean asks.
Aaron shakes his head. “No,” he says, then pauses. “Well, yes, but – I meant determined. Unflinching.”
Jean surveys him for a long moment. “Those are two different things,” he says in the end. “There was a time when I knew a Kevin who would do nothing but flinch.” Aaron draws in a breath, even though he no longer needs it. The habits and rhythms of humanity still beat strong within him, Jean muses. His own were beaten out of him long ago. “But determined? Yes, he has always been that.”
A beat. Two.
“Did Kevin ever tell you about how he became a vampire?” Jean inquires.
Aaron shifts. “Sort of,” he says. “I didn’t ask for specifics, but sometimes he just – it was like he just wanted to let it out.”
Jean hums.
“I know his name was Riko, and that it wasn’t – intentional, exactly,” Aaron says.
“That’s partially true,” Jean says. “I was turned before Kevin, for Riko.” Aaron’s brow furrows, confused, so Jean smiles thinly. “So that I would be less… breakable, for his games.”
The way Aaron stiffens is to be expected. His lack of outburst, though, makes Jean like him even better.
“Kevin was never intended to be turned, but there was… an incident, one night.” Jean does not like to think about it much. “Riko is – strange. He is not a vampire the way I am, or you are, or Kevin is. It’s like – you have interest in medicine, yes? It’s like a disease. We three have all been infected, presenting with active symptoms, but Riko is a carrier. He himself is not a vampire, exactly, but he can make one.
“That incident – Kevin was half-dead,” Jean says abruptly. “He would either die of the bite, or we could bury him and see if he would turn.” He meets Aaron’s eyes. “You can deduce which occurred.”
Aaron nods. His lip is caught between his teeth, eyes lowered.
“We buried him,” Jean says, “but Kevin chose to claw his way out of that grave. Only he could have chosen how that final coin toss went.” He looks at Aaron. “Kevin is many things, only some of them good, but he has always been someone who will reach out for what he wants and clasp it tight. He does not give up. He does not give in.”
That’s why he did this to you. He was not ready to let you go, or for you to let go of this world.
So Jean likes the people Kevin has found for himself, but it is not the same as his own home. He misses Cat’s singing, and Min and Xavier’s horrific clothing decisions, and Laila’s steady presence at his side. He misses Jeremy most of all, with his smile and easy understanding and sincerity that has never flinched.
He’s thinking that he’s coming to the end of his time here, that he should be preparing to return home, when they end up being led by Neil’s werewolf friend to safe harbour so they can fix up a blade wound Neil’s ended up with, courtesy of a witch reanimating skeletons and arming them to the teeth with cutlasses, of all things.
“Als isn’t home right now, but I’ve got a spare key,” Matt says. “She won’t mind, here, the bathroom is – oh, shit.”
The lights flick on. A young woman stands before them, phone clutched tight in one hand and a hockey stick in the other. The hockey stick clatters to the ground.
That’s how they run into Katelyn, who apparently knows most of them and looks at Aaron, stricken, like she’s been hit over the head. Afterwards, Neil says it could have gone worse. Jean is perplexed as to how.
“You’re house-sitting for Allison?” Matt asks at the same time that Neil asks, “Since when are you guys that close?” and Kevin says, “We should probably table this until after we find the first aid kit,” and Aaron doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at Katelyn like he’s seen a ghost.
“Well, you know,” Katelyn says slowly. “After – after it happened, we went to each other for support because we got it. If anyone was going to know what it was like, what we were going through, it would be the other girl whose boyfriend died, right?” Her eyes go flinty, narrowing in on Aaron. “Except you didn’t.”
“Technically—” Neil begins.
“I don’t care about the technicalities,” Katelyn spits at the same time that Jean hisses at Neil to shut the fuck up.
“Where have you been?” she demands, throwing up her hands. “I thought you—and you,” she snarls, whirling on Andrew, who looks at her, expression blank. “You made me think—”
“Kate,” Aaron says quietly, and it’s like all the fight goes out of her. Or – no, that’s not quite it, Jean thinks, observing her carefully. It’s like his voice was a sharp prick in whatever was swelling in her, but now there’s just whatever was being carried beneath the balloon. She’s trembling. Jean cannot determined whether it’s anger, or sadness, or adrenaline, or something else entirely. He does not know this woman.
But Aaron clearly does, and well.
“I asked him to,” he says, which makes her eyes flash, but she doesn’t interrupt when he says, “Can we talk? Please?”
“Oh, now he wants to communicate,” she says, but she shifts her weight, and doesn’t tell him to get out of the house, so Jean guesses that’s as close to an acquiescence as Aaron can hope for.
“I owe you that much, right?” Aaron says, and Katelyn’s expression goes weird and tight, her lips pressed together as if that can hide the way they tremble.
“Yeah,” she says in the end. “I guess you do.”
They get Neil to the bathroom, Andrew doing a tolerable job with the bandages and antiseptic in his twin’s absence. By the time they come out, Aaron is sitting cross-legged in the living room alone, staring at the wall, unseeing.
“How’d it go, Romeo?” Neil asks, leaning against the door frame. Andrew shoots him a cool look, and Aaron an irritated one, but he ignores both.
“She’s furious,” Aaron says, and he sounds sad.
But it’s a quiet-sad, not a shattered-sad, and it doesn’t sound like it was a shock. Jean doesn’t know him as well as he knows other friends, not yet, but he’s seen enough people live through the world ending to think it was within expectations.
“She walked out, so I guess you’re on house duty until she’s back,” Aaron says to Matt, then stands up. “You’ve fixed up the knife magnet? Then let’s go.”
“Are you really okay?” Jean asks hesitantly, later that night.
Aaron nods. “Yeah,” he says, then exhales, long and low. “I told her why we dropped off the grid originally—the first time we ever knew monsters existed, Andrew killed one. And then – the people who attacked Nicky years ago, they were just normal piece of shit humans, but the next night, I ran into a feral vampire there.” He pauses. “It just hit me, how they were everywhere. That was before Allison’s boyfriend, Seth—he was collateral damage. I just – all of a sudden, it was like there were all these things everywhere, and around us, specifically. That wasn’t her world, and it wasn’t mine either, but when it became Andrew’s, it became mine too.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to put her through that.”
“So you let her think you died instead,” Jean says dryly.
Aaron grimaces. “I didn’t mean for her to think that,” he says. “Just – that I was gone, and not coming back.”
“Ah,” Jean says. “Yes. That’s much better.”
Aaron glares at him, but there’s no heat. “Yeah, well, I was nineteen and fucking dumb,” he says. “She chewed me out for it. Told me I had no right to make that decision for her, to take that choice away from her.” He cracks his shoulders. “I know she’s right, but – it was also my choice to remove myself from the situation, right?” He shrugs. “I don’t know anymore. But – I’m glad she knows the truth now, I think.”
“Do you still love her?” Jean asks, deliberately not thinking about the third vampire within the vicinity of enhanced hearing.
Aaron looks out at the night sky. “I’ll always love her,” he says. “A little bit. But – no, I’m not in love with her anymore. Don’t think I’d know how to be, even if I tried.” He stares at his fingers, examining them beneath the moonlight. “The boy she loved died, probably a long time before I ever got bitten.” He hums, then says, so softly, “If the world were fair, he wouldn’t have. But I’m still here. That has to matter too.”
“It does,” Jean says, then looks at the stars too. Thinks about how across the country, Jeremy is looking up at the same sky.
Hello, he types in the text box, shaking his head a little at the terribly blurry photo of Cat jumping on Jeremy’s back waiting for him in the message thread. I’m coming home.
-:-
“Hey,” Aaron says. He’s found Kevin where he usually is, meaning loitering near the edge of the forest, but not passing the borders.
Kevin straightens, looking a little startled.
“How can you possibly be surprised to see me?” Aaron complains. “You have super hearing.”
“I was focused,” Kevin defends.
“On what?”
“... Nature,” Kevin says, which is such an obvious lie that Aaron just levels him with a raised eyebrow. “Erik says it’s important to be at peace with your surroundings.”
“Erik says a lot of things,” Aaron says. “I was unaware you listened to any of them.”
“That’s a terrible accusation,” Kevin says. “I’m very attentive.”
“I’ve watched you flick through a magazine while Nicky set the oven on fire,” Aaron says, deadpan.
Kevin shrugs. “I’m attentive to you, aren’t I?”
Aaron watches him. Waits to see if he’ll take it back. Kevin shifts from side to side, looking a little apprehensive, but to his credit, he doesn’t. Just stays there, eyes flickering between Aaron and the trees.
“Yeah,” Aaron says finally. “You are.”
Kevin looks at him then, searching his gaze for something.
Aaron keeps his tone light, and says, “That wasn’t the question, though.”
Kevin huffs. “Fine,” he says, a little amused. “Reframe my answer. I’m attentive to things I value.”
It’s a good thing Aaron hasn’t fed recently, or his cheeks would be fucking pink.
“You’re so—” Aaron starts, before cutting himself off. “The things that leave your mouth. Just, God, just the worst.”
“That’s not fair,” Kevin immediately protests. “You know Neil. And Nicky.”
“Yeah, and you’ve got the crown,” Aaron retorts.
Kevin steps closer at that. He doesn’t have any body heat, and now that Aaron is the same temperature as him—cold as a fucking corpse—he doesn’t feel any colder than usual, but Aaron shivers as their skin brushes nonetheless. Fuck.
“You know, I do like winning,” Kevin says. His hand is hesitantly raised, moving towards Aaron’s head.
Aaron leans into the touch, and Kevin’s breath hitches even as he moves his hand, cupping Aaron’s face, his fingers tangling in Aaron’s hair.
“Yeah? Crown’s all yours,” Aaron says, and Kevin huffs a laugh.
“I like winning,” Kevin repeats. “But that’s maybe not the award I want.”
Aaron shrugs. “Be less terrible then,” he says. Kevin’s hand is still on his face, framing his jawline. They’ve shifted closer once more. Aaron thinks if either of them still had a heartbeat, it would be ricocheting through both their chests now, impossible to detangle.
“Aaron,” Kevin says, so gently, and it’s just like that night in the hideout, with Neil on edge and Aaron’s heart ready to beat out of its chest and Kevin’s held eye contact as he slowly dipped his head to press his teeth into Aaron’s skin. It’s like the careful slide of his tongue, the gentle kiss to Aaron’s thigh, the way Kevin’s cheeks had been so pink—flushed with life, with Aaron, literally—that the colour still stains Aaron’s memories now.
“Maybe there’s another crown I could be convinced to give you,” Aaron murmurs, swivelling to face Kevin more front-on.
“Yeah?” Kevin asks, voice full of something. Hope, maybe.
“Mmm,” Aaron says. “You’re the only one I want to do this to,” he says, and then he pushes up on his tip-toes.
Kevin is already moving and meets him halfway, lips pressed together in a long, slow kiss.
Aaron doesn’t have a heartbeat anymore, and maybe it’s for the best. He’d hate to think what a giveaway it would be right now, at a moment like this.
“So,” Neil says, grinning that way that Aaron knows means he’s going to want to deck him. “Glad you went with a pet vampire instead of a dog?”
Andrew rolls his eyes, and Nicky cackles, and Erik and Renee exchange fondly amused looks, and Kevin makes an offended noise, and Aaron flings a bread roll at Neil’s head, and all of it is exactly how Aaron hopes it’ll be forever.
“Yeah,” he says in an undertone that only Kevin can hear, pressed up against each other’s sides. “I mean, I still like dogs better.” He huffs a laugh when Kevin makes a disgruntled noise. “But I think this way worked out.”