Archive of Our Own ^beta

Henry can tell that the thing lying in the woods behind his house doesn’t have a heartbeat. In his line of work, that leaves more than a couple options.

The closer he gets, the more clear it becomes that this is a human. A man.

And that despite having no heartbeat, the man isn’t dead. Not technically. Not really. And this would frighten some, but not Henry. He’s very deeply familiar with the phenomenon.

So. This person is either a sleeping vampire, a transitioning vampire, or a dead human. He supposes it’s possible it’s a truly dead vampire, but that’s less likely, considering he’s the only vampire hunter around here and therefore the only one with the requisite tools of the trade, so to speak.

A truly dead vampire’s skin is so blue it nears purple. So he can rule that out just by the sight of one hand lying atop the fallen leaves.

He rounds the body to get a closer look, and not a lot surprises him or makes him gasp, but, well, he is but a simple gay, and a man this beautiful? Well, that would always do the trick.

As he kneels down, he sees the punctures at the side of the man’s neck. He maneuvers the body, and his heart drops. There are four stab wounds in the man’s torso, the forest floor thick with his blood. There’s more of it - dried, unlikely to be his own - around his mouth, and Henry sighs and hangs his head.

Turned, then. Likely force fed and then killed. Henry can only make a guess by the amount of blood on the ground how long the man has been here, and how long he has before he wakes up in a bloodlust.

He reaches for his stakes. This would be the easiest kill. A defenseless vampire is one who can’t fight back, and vampires fight back violently. They bite when they’re angry. If Henry’s body had the ability to scar, he’d certainly have the scars to prove it.

But then he pushes the dark, curling hair off the man’s face, and god, he really is so stunning. Henry’s angry on his behalf. That’s not a new feeling, nor is it one isolated just to pretty men. Anyone who’s been turned without their consent gets a healthy portion of his empathy and his frustration.

He slips one hand beneath the man’s knees, the other around his back. Henry lifts with his legs and holds his head up as he carries the man back through the woods to his house.

Despite what Henry’s been told for hundreds of years - despite what his job is, what he was bred for - he knows not all vampires are bad. They don’t all deserve to die. Henry doesn’t feel right vanquishing this one before the man has a chance to prove himself a decent sort.

… … …

Not knowing when the man is going to wake, he can’t very well leave him alone. It’ll be awful enough as an experience without waking in a strange place, wondering if he’s alone and if more harm is about to befall him. So Henry gathers what supplies he needs, including a blood bag, which the man will surely need and devour, and sits by the man’s bed. He alternates the heating pad and the cold compresses to tend to the man’s fluctuations in temperature. And he rid the man of his soiled shirt, cleaned as much of the blood as he could, wiped his face and picked leaves from his hair. Henry’s white linens in one of his spare bedrooms will be ruined, but at least the man won’t wake and see the evidence of his murder all over his chest.

It’s taking longer than expected. To the point that Henry wonders if somehow he’s read this wrong. If the man didn’t consume enough of the vampire’s blood before he died, and so now Henry’s just sitting by a dead man's bedside, with the evidence of his murder tidied away like Henry himself is guilty of the crime.

Not that he would be accused. He has a lot of special abilities, shall we say, and one of them is knowing how to hide bodies.

It’s six hours before the man draws a deep, wheezing breath and tenses in the bed. Henry presses a heavy hand to the man’s chest to stop him moving too swiftly.

Tears form in the man’s eyes immediately, and Henry knows what this is.

All the memories of his last moments are flooding him at once, and he’s realizing what the scraping, empty feeling in his veins is. He’s realizing what he’s become.

“Shh. You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

He almost believes it himself. Then the man lets out a horrible groaning sound like he’s in the most pain of his life, and Henry knows the transition took longer than it should have, and so the hunger must be agonizing.

Henry reaches for the blood bag and the man shakes his head wildly.

“You need to feed. It’ll make the pain go away. Trust me, please.”

“No. No, I don’t–”

But Henry opens the bag, and he watches the man’s eyes go black, his fangs descend, his veins of his face show purple beneath his skin.

The man’s hand closes around Henry’s. He’s strong, even this desperate to feed. Henry offers no resistance when the man pulls the blood bag to his lips and sucks it dry.

He’s breathing heavily after, licking blood from his bottom lip as his face returns to some semblance of normal. Henry watches the punctures on the man’s neck heal and disappear. The stab wounds on his chest will take longer - will take more blood - but the edges are smoother already.

“Fuck you,” the man says.

Henry isn’t bothered. He’s not inclined to rely on the emotional outbursts of a crying, newly-turned vampire in his home for his own sense of self esteem.

“I found you in the woods. You’d have been alone otherwise. Woken up with no one to help guide you.”

“You’re a vampire,” the man says like an accusation. Like he’s disgusted.

It’s ironic, really. Henry isn’t going to mention it.

“I’m not.”

The man furrows his brow like he’s trying to piece something together. He looks tired. He looks gorgeous, though, with his colour coming back to his face already. Henry…well, if you believe the stories, Henry has always been weak.

“I’m Alex.”

Henry lets himself smile, lets himself take Alex’s hand gently over his stomach and hold it. He hopes it’s comforting.

“Henry.”

There’s some kind of question or maybe realization on Alex’s face, but then he closes his eyes, and two fat tears fall down each of his temples, and Henry doesn’t push it.

During transition, vampires still need things like sleep and water. All vampires can eat food and drink things other than blood, they just don’t need them. Transitioning vampires essentially go through withdrawals of human needs until those are entirely bled from their bodies. Eventually, Alex will certainly close his eyes to rest, but the need for sleep will be gone. He won’t feel tired.

Sometimes Henry thinks that’s the part of vampirism that’s meant to be a punishment; no reprieve from your thoughts in the form of even an hours’ sleep. An entire lifetime inside your own head.

“Sleep. I’ll be downstairs. Come find me when you’re ready.”

Alex nods, crying silently.

He touches one of the smaller stab wounds on his chest when Henry lets go of his hand.

Henry leaves the door open when he goes.

… … …

He’s bringing David in from his morning jaunt out in the yard when Alex appears in the kitchen. He’s still shirtless, and his stab wounds are completely gone. He looks a little more alive than he did when Henry last saw him. He also looks exactly as unimpressed as before. Bordering on furious.

David, being that he is a dog and lacking in any ability to read the room, trots over looking for attention.

“David,” Henry says gently, hoping it’s enough to stop him, but also not spook the brand new vampire in his home.

“He’s fine. Hi.” Alex holds his hand out for David to sniff, and…

Well. This is what Henry was trying to avoid. David has been with Henry for a century and a half. He’s a rascal, yes, but he’s also very adept at identifying and alerting the presence of vampires. That is, in fact, what he was bred for.

He barks three times, comes over and circles Henry’s feet.

“It’s all right,” Henry placates. Alex looks offended. Frankly, it would be funny if it weren’t so…so…Sad? “He has difficulty with strangers.”

Alex nods, then looks around the kitchen. It’s large. Henry's whole house is large. An estate, really. Old and regal and somewhat dated. He’s done upgrades over the years. He’s probably due for another reno.

The thing is, Alex doesn’t say anything.

He just turns to leave.

But not before saying, “You should've left me out there,” in a tone that suggests what he really wanted to say is, ‘you should’ve left me to die’.

Henry follows him to the door, but by the time he’s looking outside, Alex is gone.

… … …

He has to travel to Warwickshire to tend to a situation involving a nomadic group of vampires from Norway. It’s not that he’s the only hunter in the British Isles, but he is one of the best. And generally speaking, he’ll travel anywhere as long as it means no more innocent people are terrorized by rogue vampires prone to ripping out peoples’ jugulars.

Then there’s an old vampire who, every 40 years or so tends to get tired of draining the blood of small animals he keeps on his farm and kills a human or two. He’s always promised it won’t happen again. This time, it’s egregious. A whole family. Four children.

Henry does his job.

Just like Philip said it would be, it’s worse because Henry knows Andrew. They’ve spoken over the years. He begs for his life. He cries. And then, when he realizes Henry’s mind is set, he turns violent, spurred on by a practical overdose of human blood.

He’s exhausted when he gets home. David hops down out of the car and runs towards the door, and the second Henry unlocks and opens it, David starts barking. Signaling.

There’s a vampire here.

Henry reaches into his bag for his stakes, slips one into his palm.

The thing is, Alex is just sitting in an armchair with one of Henry’s books in his hands.

It’s been four weeks. Henry hasn’t seen him again.

“Alex,” he breathes, and, despite all his training, slips the stake back into his pocket. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been doing my research.”

“Oh?”

Alex closes the book and puts it on the table next to him. There’s also a glass with a generous pour of whiskey in it, the ice all melted, if Henry can guess from the water ring pooling around the base.

“Your dog is a working dog.” Henry doesn’t mean to laugh. It’s true. It’s a funny way of putting it. But Alex wasn’t making a joke, and he’s looking at Henry with dark eyes. “You’re a hunter. I want you to kill me.”

If you ask anyone in his family, they’ll tell you Henry is too sentimental. Has too much of a conscience. Doesn’t just kill any vampire he sees. Clearly.

He has no reason to kill Alex.

“I will not be doing that,” he says, scoffing, setting down his things and then going to the fireplace to get a fire started.

“Why not? You should’ve done it in the first fucking place!”

Henry shakes his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You hadn’t even fed yet.”

“But I will.” Alex sounds furious. Henry looks at him. “You know I will. I never fucking asked for this. I was a good person. I paid my taxes. I was an organ donor. I volunteered to help get school lunch programs in schools.”

Fuck.

“Alex, that’s not—“

“And now I’m this. I want it all the time. I need…It isn’t fucking fair. I don’t want this life.”

Henry strikes the match and lets the tinder light, then stands up. Alex is crying. God, he’s beautiful when he does that. Beautiful all the time.

“I can’t just kill you.”

It’s not unrelated to his former thought. He feels something for Alex. He can’t admit that.

Alex doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest when he says, “Then why don’t I kill you?”

Henry chuckles. It makes Alex angry, which he’d be worried about if he were, you know, mortal himself.

“Given that it seems you’ve only just learned that I’m a hunter, I highly doubt you’re aware of all the conditions that must be met in order for me to die.”

Alex looks frustrated at being caught out, at this statement being true. He puts his hands on his hips. It makes his chest look more broad.

He looks well enough. He’s clearly eating something.

“How are you keeping yourself satiated?” Henry asks.

“I know an abattoir.” Henry raises his brow. That’s clever. “It’s awful.”

“I know,” Henry admits.

“It’s your fault.”

That’s not fair.

“I didn’t turn you,” he says, a little too defensively. He’d quite like to know who did. Henry cannot stand the vampires who violate others by turning them without their consent. “You cannot possibly blame me for taking care of you.”

“Yeah, well.” Alex comes closer. He smells good. Like santal and whiskey. “I’m gonna anyway.”

Henry doesn’t have an argument for that, does he?

“Would you like to stay for a moment? I have something for you.”

Confused, Alex thinks about this, then nods.

Henry goes to the locked vault in his basement, grabs a blood bag from within and goes back upstairs. He’s surprised Alex didn’t follow him.

When he gets back to his living room, Alex is sitting on the sofa and David is by his feet, watching like Alex could do something wrong at any moment.

“David, come here.” David does not move. Henry walks forward and gives Alex the blood bag. “This will be better than pig’s blood.”

“I don’t want that,” Alex argues. He’s still
Holding it in his hand, which is now shaking. “I really don’t wanna drink human blood.”

“I understand, but you need a little, now and again, to avoid triggering a proper bloodlust. I’ve no idea how much you need, or how frequently, but it’s just a fact.”

Alex doesn’t seem to want to believe this, but opens the bag anyway.

His face changes, and he closes his eyes when he takes a sip. A long sip.

“Who’s teaching you?” Henry asks.

Usually it’s the person who turned you, even if that wasn’t your choice. But it’s clear that’s not happened, because one of the first things vampires tell one another is who and where the hunters are. If Alex has only just learned now, it means he might be on his own.

“No one.”

Right.

“You should find someone you trust,” Henry says gently. He sits down. David comes to sit next to him.

“I should get you to go after the guy who did this to me. If you won’t kill me, you can kill him.”

Honestly? Henry would love to.

“Who is he?”

For the first time since Henry’s known him, Alex looks hopeful.

“Trevor. Jesus, it was just a few dates. I wasn’t even sleeping with him, and he just…” He trails off. Henry watches.

He knows Trevor. This is not the first time Trevor has pulled this. Unfortunately, he’s also elusive. Lives in a fortress with exactly the kinds of protections Henry struggles to breach. Like guards who are also vampires. Numbers Henry could not defend himself against. They do know what needs to happen for Henry to die. They wouldn’t hesitate.

“I didn’t even know,” Alex finishes.

Henry has so much empathy for this man. This man sitting here with tear tracks on his cheeks, drinking from a blood bag like it’s a Capri Sun.

“I’m sorry this has happened to you,” Henry offers sincerely.

Alex wipes his eyes with his hand, gets up, and leaves.

Henry doesn’t try to go after him.

… … …

The next morning, Alex is in Henry’s kitchen when he goes down to make tea. David is still sleeping upstairs, so Henry got no heads up. Not that he needs it. He rather thinks Alex is harmless. To him, anyway.

Alex has helped himself to a piece of toast and some of Henry’s expensive jam from the farmers market.

“How old are you?” Alex asks. Henry doesn’t bother with a pleasantry either, then.

“Technically, 256.”

“Huh.” Henry hums in response. Alex chews his toast. “Y’all’s whole thing is you stop aging once you have a kill, right?”

Henry tilts his head this way and that. He’s not entirely sure he should ever go into so much detail about hunters with a vampire, but he suspects Alex is the type to find out one way or another, if he really wants to know.

“Not exactly. You can’t just kill any vampire and become immortal. It has to be one from one of the original families.”

Alex’s brow furrows like he’s curious. It’s wildly adorable. Henry smiles and switches the kettle on.

“How many of those are left?”

“Now? Six. When I killed them, more than 50.”

Alex almost looks impressed. “Them? You triggered your special little immortality trick with a double kill, or something?”

Henry sighs. It’s not entirely pleasant to talk about.

“14,” he corrects. Alex’s brows go up. “With my siblings. My father was killed in the process.”

“Oh, shit. That’s…” Alex stops, contemplates something or another. “Hey, quick question, does anything good come from all this?”

Henry’s feeling some kind of way about the domesticity of Alex in his kitchen eating toast and looking beautiful, like he belongs here.

So he says, “We met.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling for the first time since Henry met him, and, well, that’s a lot.

“I’m just saying all this feels like a complete waste of life. Lives. Whatever. There’s no way you’re happy living this long.”

Henry has thought about this so much it’s easy to just give a little shrug of his shoulder and put two mugs on the counter. He’ll give Alex an anti-compulsion tea. It won’t hurt him, but it also won’t leave him vulnerable to compulsion by stronger vampires.

“I’m fine. I’ve got companionship. And I’ve got enough experience to know where I’m needed.”

Alex scoffs and seems upset by this. “I need you.”

This again.

“That’s not how this works. I’m not in the habit of…of assisted suicide, or euthanasia, or whatever this is.”

He slides the mug across the counter, meets Alex’s eyes. Alex looks quietly furious, and, well.

Henry has never fallen in love with a vampire before. He's very well aware Alex may be the first.

“Okay, so, unless you can turn me back into a human, I guess we’re at an impasse. Because
I’m not doing this for the rest of eternity.”

Henry sighs. “Alex, it truly does get better. It’s hardest at first. In a hundred years or so, you’ll forget you ever felt this way.”

It’s meant to be a joke. It doesn’t land.

“Fine.” Alex gets off the stool at the counter, leaves his tea there and pulls his shoulders back. “I’ll find another hunter to do it.” He takes another look at Henry and says, disdainfully, “Coward.”

And not many things will spur Henry into the kind of quick action this word does. It’s being called a coward, and a vampire exacting any manner of violence and torture.

But he moves quickly so quickly Alex doesn’t see it coming, and pushes Alex back against the door frame. It can’t be comfortable against his spine, but Alex makes no indication that he’s in pain.

“I am not a coward,” Henry says lowly. Alex’s nostrils flare. And see, this is the thing about being this close to a vampire; they always want you this way. “And I don’t appreciate you barging in here and saying so when you know so little about me. You couldn’t begin to understand the things I’ve done and seen.”

“That’s—“

“I’m not done,” Henry continues. If he’s not mistaken, he sees Alex nod just slightly. “I’d also be remiss not to point out it’s very rich of you to call me a coward, when at the first thought of living as a vampire - which many, many do without terrorizing the neighbourhood - you want someone to end your life.”

Alex finally realizes, perhaps, that he’s stronger than Henry is. Or he’s just irritated enough to do something about it. Either way, he shoves Henry back and presses his hand hard against Henry’s chest.

“That isn’t the fucking same thing. I’m asking you to do your job. You’re supposed to kill me.” Henry doesn’t take the bait. Just looks at Alex. “I don’t know what to do.”

Henry says, “I can help you,” as sincerely as he can.

Alex shakes his head, and moves back, and says, “I don’t deserve it.”

This time when he leaves, Henry tries to follow quicker. He can’t. Alex is nowhere in sight when Henry steps outside.

… … …

Henry doesn’t believe in fate, but he does absolutely believe in the divine satisfaction of killing someone who deserves it.

Still, it’s almost comically perfect timing when he’s out getting a drink and waiting for Bea to arrive, and Trevor slides into the seat across from Henry like he clearly doesn’t remember Henry, what he is, and what he’s capable of.

He’s flirting. He’s not good at it.

It’s too easy to get him outside, in the alley, and then drive the stake into his neck. Sure, Henry had to spend a couple seconds kissing him, but that’s a small price to pay.

He’s back at the table before Bea even has to text and ask where he is.

She squints at him. “Who?”

He can’t stand that she can always tell when he’s killed.

“No one. Trevor.”

Her brow goes up. “You realize you might’ve just started an incredibly violent conflict?”

Sure.

Right.

But, “He deserved it.”

… … …

Henry has killed at least one vampire a day since he killed Trevor. The wards Pez put on Henry’s property have clearly worn off, because the last two mornings when he’s gone out to let David do his business, David hasn’t even been allowed his morning wee without having to alert Henry to the presence of some fuckboy vampire who wants to kill him.

So you can understand why, this morning when his feet hit the bottom floor and David is off ahead of him and barking, he reaches for the closest item that could be considered a weapon, and goes towards the sound.

When he walks into the foyer brandishing a brass candlestick, he hears Alex.

“C’mon, man. You know me. I was invited. Chill out.”

David is not chill. His nerves must be about as shot as Henry’s. Henry sets the candlestick down on the entryway table and lets out his breath. Alex’s brow furrows.

“What’s all this? You finally gonna put me outta my misery?”

Henry glares. “I thought you were someone else.”

Scoffing, Alex shoots him a look and walks off towards the kitchen like this is his own home.

“Yeah, apparently everyone wants you dead.”

Huh.

“Have you been talking to other vampires?” Henry asks hopefully. Alex is filling the kettle. What the fuck?

“Not on purpose. I hear things.” Henry snorts out a laugh. Vampires have ridiculous hearing capabilities. “What’d you do that got them so pissed, anyway?”

Henry just stares. Surely, if Alex has heard that Henry is a target, he’ll have heard about the way Henry did away with the one almost all the vampires in this town had sworn fealty to.

“I killed Trevor.”

Alex stops what he’s doing, looks at Henry from under his lashes.

Then, after a moment, he sets the kettle on the stove and switches on the burner.

“I can’t believe you’re admitting it.”

“What have I got to hide? I’m glad I did it.”

“But you won’t kill me.”

Henry has had a very stressful week, which is probably why he reacts this way.

He slams his hand down on the counter, lets out this sort of feral groan he wishes he could take back, and the says, “If you’ve come into my home unannounced yet again to rehash the same bloody conversation when I’ve already said no, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Alex, cheeky bugger, says, “Or what?” with a brow raised like it might get him what he wants. “It’s just fucking hilarious you’ll like, exterminate all vampires but me.”

“That’s not true, for one thing. And for another, I am currently only killing the ones who are trying to kill me.”

Alex’s eyes go dark. “I could do that.”

He seems to be serious.

Henry isn’t afraid.

Not even when Alex comes over, suddenly in front of him, and presses his hips against Henry’s, pinning him to the kitchen island. He slips a hand into Henry’s hair, grips it hard, and tilts his head to the side to bare Henry’s carotid to him.

Henry, the weakest man on the god forsaken planet, gasps.

And watches Alex lick his lips.

“You won’t.”

“Yes I will. Then your sister will come after me and I’ll get what I want.”

Henry is sure Alex shifts his thigh on purpose. Tease.

“If I’m not mistaken, there are a few things you want.” It’s an insane thing to say. Alex doesn’t want him. He’s being deliberately antagonistic, mostly because he knows Alex won’t kill him. Can’t. Not like this. “If you try to kill me this way, all you’ll get is a delicious snack.”

Alex shoves away from him and looks furious. Possibly at himself for forgetting that Henry isn’t just some mortal.

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

They’re both irritated. Henry’s angry. There’s no other explanation for the way he confesses the thing he shouldn’t.

“I killed Trevor for what he did to you. That’s the only reason. I saw the opportunity and I took it gladly.”

Alex’s breathing changes, and his brow furrows, and he looks both confused and flattered, if that’s possible, and then the kettle whistles.

“I didn’t fucking need you to do that,” Alex insists. His fists are balled at his sides.

“I don’t care,” Henry replies, which perhaps is a lie. He isn’t even sure.

Alex leaves, anyway. He says a sweet, soft goodbye to David as he goes, so it’s very clear Henry doesn’t stand a goddamned chance.

… … …

Pez swans in from Riga or Uppsala or Leeds or wherever the fuck he’s been these past couple months. To be fair, Henry had called him and asked for the wards to be strengthened yet again. Pez is wearing an Hermes scarf and what looks to be gold highlighter on his cheeks, and seems to think Henry needed a monstrous Starbucks concoction more resembling a milkshake than a coffee. Henry doesn’t even drink coffee.

“Left it a bit long, haven’t we?” Pez comments, pulling from his Saint Laurent bag a glass container of salt and a packet of what Henry assumes is dried mushrooms.

“Seems so. I’m growing tired of killing the supernatural before I’ve even had my tea.”

David lets out a little gruff sound in agreement.

“Why are vampires such a pesky lot?” Pez asks, seemingly terribly interested in a particular maple tree on the perimeter. “A bit like mosquitoes.”

Henry can’t help but laugh. The comparison is rather apt, for the most part. He’s not going to encourage Pez.

“Mm.”

“So, all vampires, as usual, unless accompanied by you?” Pez asks, and Henry has a moment of panic.

That would prevent Alex from breaking and entering.

He can’t have that.

“Or invited,” he says, and he’s not strong enough to force eye contact, but he still knows Pez is staring at him. This is absolutely not the way it usually goes.

Alex could come here with Henry the first time because they were together.

If Henry hadn’t murmured, “Come in,” to an unconscious, half dead being, Alex wouldn’t have been able to come back. Henry hadn’t been thinking. He’d just acted.

Very out of character for him. It is, according to his brother, one of his biggest weaknesses that he assesses things longer than he should. Philip claims it’s going to get him killed. Henry is sure Pip just wants to avoid the inconvenience of having to travel from London for the service.

Anyhow.

“Why?” Pez asks, succinct.

“Because.”

Pez, bless him, doesn’t push. Which, really, Henry knows means Pez has an inkling already and simply doesn’t need the information.

When Pez is done with his incantations and the wards are fortified, Henry makes them a cup of tea and they sit in the living room with David looking less anxious than he has in weeks. Like he can feel the difference.

Pez says, “I hope you know what you’re doing,” and Henry…

Well, he does not.

… … …

Pez stays a week, which is about typical. Henry doesn’t think Pez stays longer than that anywhere, unless he finds himself wrapped up in the kind of romantic entanglement that makes it worth his while. The last time that happened, he was in Whistler with a couple newlywed Aussies working on the ski hills, or some such thing.

Pez has been around as long as Henry has. Unlocked his magic at 14 in a ceremony in West Africa with his parents and granddad there. Useful person to have already become best mates with.

When they went to Oxford, Pez used to make it so that they could each have romantic encounters, and no one could barge into their room. Rather, someone could open the door, but instead of seeing two people in bed together, they’d see an empty room. Incredible.

Pez and Henry have saved one another more times than one could count. By this point, there’s no reason to try. Pez takes care of Henry’s family, and Henry travels around and rids Pez’s friend’s and family’s areas of vampires when the populations spike.

Pez is also the best person on the planet to get pissed with, and after a stressful couple of weeks, Henry welcomes the experience.

They’re at the one pub in town where Pez hasn’t shagged someone on the staff and has promised - after the incident six years ago at the King’s Head - that he’d leave all the employees here alone, no matter how charmed they are by him.

Henry’s four gin and tonics into the evening and pleasantly buzzed when he suggests they get some chips for the table. Pez obliges, because Pez always obliges, and then skips off to the loo after downing the last of his martini and ordering another.

Henry’s not paying attention, apparently, and Alex slips into the booth next to him.

Not across, where Pez was sitting.

He also slings his arm around the back of the booth, but still manages to be close enough that his arm touches the backs of Henry’s shoulders.

“Who’s your date?”

Henry, on autopilot, answers, “My best mate,” and then shakes his head and squeezes his eyes closed. “I mean it’s not a date. We’re having drinks. He’s visiting.”

Alex grins at him a slow, sexy thing Henry will almost certainly think about later when he’s alone.

“You’re drunk.”

It’s an accusation. Henry sticks his chin out.

“I’m still better drunk than most men are sober.”

If he’s not mistaken, Alex looks down to where Henry’s shirt is unbuttoned at his throat.

“Wanna prove it?”

Henry truly can’t tell if Alex is hitting on him, or daring him to have a go at killing him. One option is far more appealing than the other.

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Henry asks, knowing the subject change is so abrupt it’s transparent.

He still isn’t expecting Alex’s answer.

“Trying to have sex.” Henry chokes on his drink and stares at him. Alex shrugs. “I read that sex as a vampire is really fucking intense.”

“It is.” Jesus Christ, Henry needs to lock himself away. “I mean, I’ve heard.”

“I have so many questions.”

The look on Alex’s face is positively alluring.

Luckily, Pez comes back to the table. Unfortunately, he announces his presence by saying, “In typical fashion, I leave you alone for four minutes and you find yourself a lovely paramour. Hello.”

“Hi.” Alex pulls his arm down off the back of the booth. Henry is staring at Pez. “Alex.”

Pez is deeply amused. “Mhm.” Pez can detect a vampire faster than David can, is the thing. “Pez. Charmed, I’m sure.”

Henry sees a way out of this and he’s going to take it.

“Alex was just telling me he’s looking for a partner for the evening.”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex laughs, dimples winking. Henry is likely going to die, and there will be some bloody inquest into his cause of death, and no one will be able to sort it out. “I wanna experience sex like this at least once before I go out.”

Pez can’t leave that alone. “Go out…where, exactly?”

Alex replies, “Oh. Die,” with such a casual and yet matter-of-fact tone, Henry wants to shake him.

“Of course. And sorry - which of these endeavors have you come to Henry for?”

Henry kicks Pez under the table. For his troubles, he gets an awful twitch in his eye. Damn Pez for his commitment to magicking minor annoyances as retribution.

And Alex says, “The death part,” with such certainty Henry probably dies a little himself.

Pez, grinning, clearly able to see through this entire situation and Henry’s feelings about it, says, “But of course.”

“Percy,” Henry says sharply, which earns him only an interested tilt of the head. He turns to Alex. “Have a good evening.”

Alex slides out of the booth as he says, “Fuckin’ trying to,” under his breath.

Henry knows there is nowhere in the bar far enough that Alex won’t hear the judgmental way Pez says, “Hazza, what in god’s name?”

… … …

Henry endures Pez’s stern lecture about being too interested in a vampire. Henry has half a mind to check the wards and make sure Pez hasn’t altered them to keep Alex out. He wouldn’t even be wrong to do it, really. Henry could use the reminder of what a terrible idea this is. That said, he also would just seek Alex out elsewhere and invite him in again. He wouldn’t put it past Pez to have done something fancy to have that fall flat, too, but.

Well, he wakes up to the smell of something baking, and David barks once like he’s annoyed by the presence in the house, and Henry smiles to himself and reaches out to pat David’s head. David absolutely should not be taking such a casual stance on this vampire just because he’s so often exposed to him, but Henry’s having a rather romantic thought about David coming around in the end.

As if the end isn’t just…misery.

Henry is pulling on a sweatshirt when his feet land on the bottom of the stairs and he saunters into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he says easily, and Alex barely glances over his shoulder and cracks an egg into a hot pan.

“You snore.”

Embarrassing.

“It’s David.”

“Ha.” Henry yawns. There’s a steaming cup of tea on the counter. Alex gestures at it. “Heard you waking up.”

Christ, if that’s not terribly intimate.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Alex?”

“How do you take your eggs?” Henry tries not to groan, but he fails. He hates it when people don’t answer his questions. “I was actually hoping for some help.” Henry swallows his sip of tea and sighs. “Not that. Unless…”

The cheeky grin Alex throws him should not do it for Henry, but he’s fully a lost cause at this point, anyway.

“What do you need?” Henry prompts, not wishing to allow himself to get further off track.

“Blood?” Alex says, which makes Henry smile, actually. Something about Alex saying what he needs to survive instead of asking for ways to die is lovely. “Eggs?”

“Right. Poached, preferably, but sunny side up is fine, thank you.” He takes another sip of his tea and stands. “I’ll be right back. David, are you standing guard to make sure Alex makes no suspicious movements, or coming with me?”

David side eyes Henry, then sits down right at Alex’s feet and looks up like Alex is absolutely someone who Henry needs to be guarded from.

Which may be true, but despite David’s considerable talents, Henry is sure the dog is incapable of sussing out why.

Henry is careful not to take a proper steadying breath until he’s deep in the basement vault, because he knows Alex will hear him otherwise. And frankly, he’s a little shocked that Alex, for how nosy he is, hasn’t snooped around here or followed Henry. He opens the freezer and pulls out the first bag he puts his hand on.

When he gets back upstairs, Alex is plating up breakfast, which consists of muffins, of some kind, eggs, bacon, and potatoes.

Alex drops a piece of bacon on the floor. It doesn’t look like an accident. David gobbles it up.

“Are you trying to buy his affections?”

“It’s working.” David barks, and Alex gives him a withering look. “Okay, that’s not what you were saying a minute ago.”

Henry slides the blood bag across the table to Alex. “What was he saying a minute ago?”

Alex’s grin is conspiratorial and sexy. Henry takes a bite of his muffin. It’s warm from the oven. Christ, that’s delicious.

Henry's seconds from asking him to move in.

“This is his third piece of bacon. I can see the love in his eyes. Acting like he hates me is all a show for you.”

“Mhm. I’m sure. This is delicious, by the way.”

“I’m good in the kitchen.”

Clearly.

Henry has other questions. Wants to know if Alex is good at other things. Wants to know how many other people might be aware of some of his more specific talents.

“Were you successful the other night?”

“What?” Alex asks around a bite of eggs, brow furrowed. Then he goes, “Oh. Right. No.” Henry makes his best effort to remain neutral. “There was this one woman, but she was too tipsy and I’m not that kind of guy.”

Henry tilts his head. “What kind of guy are you?”

Alex turns on him quickly, eyes hard. “Who fucking knows anymore?” Bitter. Like this is Henry’s fault. “And maybe I don’t even care, you know?”

Henry doesn’t. He nods, anyway. He also doesn’t believe for a second that Alex doesn’t care.

Alex tears open the blood bag and drinks it all in one go. No moderation at all. Henry can’t tell if that’s new, or just Alex. If he had to guess, it’s the latter.

“I’m a lawyer. Came over here to teach because working at a firm was literally killing me.” He pauses. “Ironic, huh?”

“I bet you’re a good teacher.”

“I was, but then after eight months I was recruited to be an advisor at this startup making software that compiles people’s legal documents. Triple the salary, plus equity. That’s what I do now.” Henry blinks at him. That’s so bloody impressive. “I’m on a leave of absence.” Right. Makes sense. “What do you do?”

Henry blinks at him. “Uh.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “You must have a day job, I mean.”

“I write on occasion. The fact of the matter is being alive this long means I’ve been able to invest and working isn’t strictly necessary.”

“What did your family do?”

“Killed vampires.”

That shocks a laugh out of Alex. “What, like, for money?”

Henry doesn’t know what’s amusing. “Yes.”

Alex processes this for a moment, then Henry realizes his mistake.

“How much?”

“Alex,” Henry sighs, shaking his head.

“How much? I have savings. I obviously don’t fucking need it. You can have it all. It’s up to like, $100k. I can do the conversion if—“

“I’m not taking your money,” Henry says firmly. Alex’s throat works and his eyes look wet.

“Please.”

Henry just moves closer, sets his hand on Alex’s knee and slides it up a little. Alex’s breathing is rapid.

Henry looks him right in the eye.

“No.”

“I can’t…I can’t keep doing this.” Henry reaches up and puts his hand on Alex’s face, in a moment of sheer insanity. “Am I supposed to just keep coming to you every few weeks for eternity when I need something? Come on, that’s—“

“Have I given you the impression I’d ever turn you away?” He doesn’t mean to sound irritated, but it’s to the point now that they know each other well enough for Henry to begin feeling a little offended that Alex keeps implying he’s entirely alone.

“That’s not—“ Alex squeezes his eyes shut. “Look, I know who I am. I have a seven cup a day coffee habit. I stole a friend’s adderall in high school and fucking terrified myself over how quickly I needed it all the time. I used to have a hard limit on drinking because I don’t know when to stop. I’m a fucking ticking time bomb, Henry. It’s actually truly better for everyone that I just…go away.”

Henry's heart aches deeply in his chest. It’s absolutely nonsensical that he feels it wouldn’t be better for him. He likes Alex so much. He wants him. It’s terrible.

“Alex, love.” Henry takes both Alex’s hands in his. “If that happens - and it might - it doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

“I won’t be able to live with myself,” Alex confesses instead of running away. He also lets Henry continue holding his hands.

“You must let me help you through this.” He’s begging and he doesn’t care.

Alex’s body sags. Henry can’t tell if it’s relief or the weight of the burden.

… … …

“You could just move in,” Henry suggests when he comes downstairs in the middle of the night to find Alex reclined back on the sofa, David sitting at attention on the floor next to him.

Notably, David is also letting Alex pet him. Henry’d not heard a bark.

“Nah, this place is creepy.” Henry snorts out a laugh and lowers himself into an armchair. “Added more logs to the fire. It felt cold in here?”

Vampires can’t feel cold or warmth. Well, unless they’re being burned alive, at which time it’s all they bloody talk about. To be fair, it’s a medieval practice without much use in modern society.

“Thank you. What are you reading?”

Alex holds up a book so old and weathered the title has worn off. “Edgar Allen Poe.”

“Ah.”

“Why do you have this?”

“I have a lot of books. I’ve just sort of…accumulated them over time.” Alex grins. “I don’t often go through and remove anything. I have the space.”

“I’ll say.” Alex glances around the huge room.

Henry tries again.

“You could just move in.”

Alex seems to at least consider it this time before shaking his head. “It’s bad enough I keep bothering you. I’m not gonna become a bad houseguest, too.”

Henry looks to where Alex has made himself incredibly comfortable. There’s nothing bad about it.

“Whatever you like.”

Alex blinks at him, then goes back to his book. “You should be careful saying that to vampires.”

“I don’t, typically, say that to anyone.”

“Stop. You’ll make me feel special.”

Dry. Like in Alex’s mind there’s no way this could be true.

Henry purses his lips.

“Yes. Well.”

… … …

Alex winds up by his side when Henry is out for a jog in the brisk morning weather. David couldn’t be convinced nor forced to join him, so Henry is out alone, a pair of running leggings under his shorts, thermal shirt beneath his hoodie, and a hat shoved down over his ears.

“Alex.” It’s been a couple weeks. Henry wants to see him so much more frequently. It might be nice if they could schedule something.

Henry’s never even asked him for his number, though.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t being immortal mean you don’t have to worry about shit like this? Being in shape?”

Henry gives him a look. “I’m vain.”

Alex looks him up and down, and Henry stops jogging, sniffs as delicately as he can and works on catching his breath.

“Can I help you?” Henry asks.

“Oh. I dunno. I went to your place and you weren’t there.” Right. “Smelled you on my way home, though.”

Henry shouldn’t say anything to that. He shouldn’t.

“What do I smell like?”

Alex looks like he might not want to answer.

“Grass. Laundry. Also kind of…burning?”

“Ah, of course. That’s all the souls.” It’s a joke. Alex doesn’t laugh. “Would you like to join me for lunch? I have soup.”

Alex turns, starts jogging backwards, and says, “I love soup.” Henry rolls his eyes and follows.

As it turns out, Alex is actually seeking a top up of human blood. Henry tries not to be hurt that Alex didn’t simply want to see him.

He’s foolish enough to bring it up over tomato soup and cheese toasties. Alex dunks his sandwich in the soup and lets the excess drip off before taking a bite.

“I mean,” Alex says, mouth full, “I didn’t think you’d actually want to spend your time with a vampire. Particularly not me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Particularly not you?”

Alex licks butter off his finger, which is likely one of the most stupidly hot things Henry’s ever seen.

“Because I keep begging you to kill me.”

“To be fair, you haven’t done that in a while.”

“I’m considering my options.”

Henry is scared to ask what that means. He also really needs to ask what that means. “What options?”

Alex shrugs. “Other hunters, starving myself to death, lead coffin in the Atlantic. You know.”

Henry smiles a little. “Sure.”

Alex isn’t going to do any of those things. He’s sipping slowly from a tumbler of blood and acting far too casual.

“It’s still my plan,” Alex says seriously. And the thing is, Henry doesn’t doubt it. Not for a moment. He thinks Alex might be more stubborn than anyone he’s met. “I barely know how to do any of this. I’d probably be a complete monster without your little supply.”

Henry thinks that’s somehow meant to be a dig. He refuses to acknowledge it as such.

“I’m happy to help.”

“In super specific ways.”

“Yes, not by completely ending your life and existence,” he snaps. Alex sighs and tilts his head like Henry is the exhausting one. “Would you like a tour of the basement?”

Alex is clearly thrown off by what he deems an abrupt change of topic, but he also says yes. Henry does his best not to consider that might mean that Alex truly trusts him. So after lunch, they head downstairs. Alex, despite being a literal vampire, seems to be sticking awfully close to Henry. Henry switches on lights as they go, and tells Alex he can touch anything he wanted.

“Why does all this stuff look like it could kill me?” Alex asks as they walk into the old armory.

Henry leans against the table in the center. “These are all designed to torture, not kill. This - “ He picks up what looks like a tuning fork off a peg on the wall. “ - would bring you to your knees if I tapped it against my ring. I’d hear nothing. You’d be in agony.”

Alex seems to take him at his word. He continues looking around.

Henry continues. “Everything in here is just meant to make your life miserable. Positively medieval. The old school of thought was that vampirism was just brainwashing and people could be saved. All very based in religion. That used to hold holy water.”

The large stone basin in the corner sits dry and has for a hundred years.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Henry clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“There are a lot of third rate hunters out there. People who say they’re hunters but aren’t from any of the family lines and are really just cosplaying. I don’t know if they get off on the torture or if it’s all just a scam for cash, but either way, they won’t give you want you want.”

“Neither will you.”

“Sure,” Henry offers. “But I’m also not pretending so I can separate your skin from the muscle.” Alex’s expression turns to disgust and Henry points to a particular knife on the wall meant to do the exact thing he just described. “If you’re going around to others, at least understand who’s good and who isn’t.”

Alex squints at him and then comes closer. “Is this supposed to be like Scared Straight? Plant all these awful fucking ideas in my head so I’ll stop trying?”

Henry shrugs his shoulders. “What you do with the information is up to you. I’m trying to keep you safe. I’d hate to learn you’re being tortured in a vault somewhere by a religious fanatic.”

Alex hums something and Henry heads for the door.

“What else is down here? This is fucking weird.”

Henry opens the deep freeze in his cold storage, pulls out two items, and smiles.

“Ice cream.”

He hands one of the Cornettos to Alex, who’s laughing - really laughing - and then later when Henry asks for Alex’s number, he gives it without a second thought.

… … …

Henry’d had to help Bea with an issue in Edinburgh and returned after three days and 11 dead vampires. He gets in late - it’s gone 1am when he walks through the door. David heads straight for his bed in the living room and gives Henry the evil eye until he gets a fire going. He makes himself a cup of tea, though he fully plans to fall asleep before he can actually drink it, and then has a scalding shower and pulls on his most comfortable sweats. He slips between his sheets and lets himself relax and close his eyes.

Not 2 minutes later, David’s barking - alerting - but it’s not even necessary. Alex’s voice sounds broken and ragged when he calls out, “Henry! Henry.”

Henry rushes down the stairs and tries not to gasp when he sees Alex.

He’s covered in blood. It’s all over him. Running down his mouth and chin and neck and onto his clothes. He’s in just a tee shirt and jeans. He’s crying.

Henry wants to ask what he’s done, but he knows the answer. His heart breaks. This is what Alex was most scared of. This is what he never wanted. Henry was foolish for thinking maybe they could avoid it.

“Alex,” he says, trying for firm but failing, he’s sure. Alex, crying, frozen in place but shaking, gasps out a breath. Henry goes closer. “Alex, look at me.”

“Henry, I—“

“I know, darling.” He doesn’t know. How could he know? “You’re safe here. It’s alright.”

“I didn’t mean to… I just—“ Henry pulls Alex close to his chest and sinks his fingers into Alex’s hair. He makes a vague shushing sound and closes his eyes when Alex’s hands grip the back of his shirt so tightly he hears one of the seams pop. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

It’s so familiar by now. Henry doesn’t want to belittle Alex or his feelings right now by saying he can.

Henry absolutely believes it. Alex is not an irredeemable monster. He’s not reduced to something terrible just because of one thing he’s done. Not even when that thing is this. Henry believes in the good in people. He certainly believes in the good in Alex.

“Henry, you need to do it. You need to fucking do it.” Alex shoves him away, pulls back, but they’re still more or less holding one another. Alex is crying, and he’s clearly distraught, and Henry… “Please. I’m fucking begging. I’ll do anything.”

“Alex, no,” Henry whispers, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Alex shouts, hands gripping the front of Henry’s shirt so hard he jolts forward.

Henry isn’t scared.

He looks Alex in the eye.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

The intensity of his tone matches Alex’s. What he’s saying is true, and it might not make a difference to Alex, but it certainly makes a difference to Henry. He’s almost positive this has been the true answer all along for why he wasn’t willing to do what Alex has asked. It’s true that he doesn’t just kill any vampire because they’re a vampire, but he needs to be honest with himself, too.

He’s been gone on Alex since the first day. He’s loved him a little more each time they’ve spoken.

Henry only just now realizes that it’s very possible this is the absolute last thing Alex wants to hear right now. He hadn’t been thinking.

But then Alex looks at Henry’s mouth.

Henry’s never been as strong as people believe.

He presses his mouth to Alex’s with no concern for the blood still on his lips and face. The strength of Alex’s grip on Henry’s clothing doesn’t change, but the intent behind it seems to. It’s a push-pull that Henry could truly get lost in if he isn’t careful. He can taste blood, bitter on his tongue, and then the sweetness of Alex’s mouth when he opens it and moans like he likes this, too. When Henry puts his hands on Alex’s face, he feels the wetness of tears and wants to just…

Well, he supposes he wants to take care of Alex. Which isn’t anything new in the slightest.

“Henry,” Alex breathes, breath ragged as he drags his lips across Henry’s jaw. It makes him moan again.

“Don’t stop.”

Alex does not stop.

They make it as far as the sofa, where Henry shoves Alex down and undresses him, worships his body and sucks him off and nearly comes untouched when he slips his fingers past Alex’s blood-stained lips and feels his tongue and teeth against the pads of his fingers. Alex’s orgasm is intense, and he’s loud, but then almost immediately after he’s quieter than Henry thought he’d be, making these whimpery little noises that sound like Henry’s name.

When Henry lets go, it’s with Alex stroking him, kissing him, not bothering to let him come up for air. It’s bloody fantastic. Some of the best sex Henry’s had. They’re a fucking mess of blood and sweat and come, and Henry collapses half naked onto Alex’s body.

Neither of them seems to know what to say.

When Henry pulls back, he wipes his chin and mouth with the back of his hand and it comes away red.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he suggests, unsure why he’s being quite so delicate, considering.

Alex just nods and sits up when he can.

David gives one pathetic bark from the corner where he’s been sleeping. Henry laughs and reaches for Alex’s hand.

He runs the shower for Alex, who’s naked but for the blanket Henry’d wrapped ‘round his hips before they left the living room. He tests the temperature of the water, though vampires aren’t exactly fussy on that kind of thing, and looks at Alex very seriously.

“Is there a body?”

Alex seems alarmed by the question, but gets over it quickly enough, and nods his head. Henry doesn’t need to prompt him to say more. Alex offers up its location, and then who the man was. Henry doesn’t pry or ask for more than that. It doesn’t matter right now. It matters to Alex - of course it does - but Henry is more concerned with Alex not being found out or hunted down before Henry can protect him.

He gently encourages Alex into the shower, and then dials Pez as he’s descending the stairs again. He makes light work of burning Alex’s clothes, and fortunately Pez is the kind of mate that will help you magic away a body when you ask.

Besides, Pez knows everything even if Henry’s never told him. Alex is special. Pez has been rather polite about not laying into Henry over it. Besides, Pez, generally speaking, disagrees with killing anything supernatural unless they’ve done something truly heinous. Henry knows Pez well enough to know that he will not consider feasting on a man who had a cult-like obsession with the vampire who turned Alex a corporal offense.

Henry would very much like to know how the hell this happened. Perhaps once he’s clean, Alex will be inclined to share.

Henry washes his own face in the downstairs powder room, shocked, if he’s honest, that Alex had let him get away with that so long. He looked absolutely debauched.

He makes tea and puts together a small plate of crackers and cheese. He grabs a blood bag from downstairs as well, and a glass to pour it in so he can moderate Alex’s intake. By the time he’s back upstairs, Alex is cutting off the water. Henry brings him a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and stands in the bathroom while Alex steals some of Henry’s night cream without asking, and looks for a toothbrush.

“You’re going to have to tell me what happened,” Henry says carefully, which is true, but doesn’t need to happen this second. “I won’t rush you, but I do need to know.”

Alex nods, spits toothpaste into the sink, and looks at Henry in the reflection of the mirror.

“You’re gonna have to tell me more about being in love with me.” Right. That’s fair. “What the fuck, Henry?”

Henry shrugs helplessly, which is, in fact, how he’s felt about this entire situation the whole time.

“I’m sure you're familiar with the phenomenon.”

Alex finishes rinsing his mouth, drops the toothpaste into the little cup next to Henry’s with a clink, and turns around, crossing his arms. “That’s where you’re wrong. No one ever said it when I was human. Really didn’t imagine anyone would say it now.”

Christ.

“Happy to surprise you,” Henry mutters. He nearly sees Alex smile.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, pressing his fingers against his temple. “I feel terrible.”

“Mm.” He purses his lips. “Think of it like the comedown off a binge. This is the most you’ve had. You need to ease off it. I’ll help.”

Alex is staring at him. “So this is fucking withdrawal?”

Henry tilts his head side to side. “It’s the closest way to describe it. I’m sorry. I know it’s awful.”

Alex pushes past him, but doesn’t get too far before taking his hand and leading Henry to his own bed. Alex sits at the edge and pulls Henry between his knees.

“The sex was a good distraction.” Fucking hell. “It really is better as a vampire. Unless that’s just you.”

Henry can’t stand himself for the way his cheeks heat. He just licked another man’s blood off Alex's face before sucking his dick and swallowing his come. A simple compliment shouldn't have him reacting this way.

Henry reaches for the glass and then pours a tiny amount of blood into it.

“Small sips. Moderation.”

Alex looks as though he can tell Henry’s avoiding everything he just said, but does as he’s told anyway.

“I am very good in bed,” he says nonchalantly as he sets the glass aside and then passes Alex a cup of tea.

Alex snorts. “Should we do that in moderation, too?”

He’s acting remarkably fine considering how he showed up here. Henry wants to push him just a little not to use sex as a distraction. He’s being very mature and sensible and healthy about this, really. Especially considering all he wants is another go at it.

“Yes. I do need details, Alex.”

Alex closes his eyes, sets the tea down, and flops back on the bed.

Henry takes what looks like an open invitation to straddle Alex’s lap.

“Please,” he says, then watches Alex bink up at him. “Please, love. Just let me help you.”

Alex’s breaths feel heavy, like perhaps he’s trying not to allow himself to cry. He brings his hands up to Henry’s thighs.

“Okay,” he agrees. Sounds terrified. Does it anyway. Does it scared. So brave and beautiful that Henry could never, ever stop loving him.

… … …

It was something between an ambush and being goaded and blackmailed. The man insisted that he knew what Alex was, and despite Alex’s efforts to deny it and diffuse the situation, the man persisted. Violently, apparently. He produced some kind of blunt object and struck Alex across the ribs and then the neck - all healed before Alex ever showed up here. Then once Alex admitted it, the man begged for it. Said he’d tell the whole town. Go to the papers and the press and Alex’s employers. So Alex had decided to just give the man what he wanted, on the assumption that he’d be able to stop once he started. The whole thing sounds terrible.

Henry desperately needs to sleep. After he’s assured Alex that Pez has taken care of the body, and Alex has had slow, small sips of blood and longer, reckless swigs of too-hot tea, they fall into bed together. Henry pulls Alex closer so he’ll rest his head on Henry’s chest.

“Stay with me,” he requests. Alex says nothing. “I can take care of you.”

Stubbornly - which is almost predictable - Alex replies, “I want to take care of myself.”

Henry presses his lips to the top of Alex’s head, closes his eyes, and says, “Then let me watch.”

He’s falling asleep, but he still feels Alex nod a moment later.

… … …

It takes more than a week to convince Alex he’s not a monster. That he’s not something to be afraid of. That with help and guidance, this doesn’t have to happen again and that even if it does, that won’t make him irredeemable.

There’s something really beautiful about how easily Alex cries. Not that his pain is attractive, but the way he’s not afraid to show it is. How vulnerable he can be. How open, now that he’s less scared.

“What do I have to be scared of?” he asks, sliding his hand through Henry’s hair. “The worst has already happened.”

Henry manages to stay home another two weeks before he’s needed in Grantham when a dormant - read: staked - vampire wakes with a bloodlust that has her holding a host of young men hostage. She can’t be reasoned with, and it takes him, Bea, and Pez to get her under control and killed. Henry makes it out very much alive, but with bruising down his right side from his chest to below his hips.

When he gets home - having left Alex there, safe and alone behind the wards with a stocked fridge and a single blood bag in case he needed it before Henry was back - David barks happily when they walk into the house.

“You’re losing your touch,” Henry comments, even though he thinks it’s terribly endearing that David has come around over time.

“Hey, buddy.” Alex kneels down and pets David, who looks all too pleased to receive the attention. Henry laughs again and rolls his eyes fondly. “Hi.”

Henry fits his hand over the curve of Alex's hip once he’s standing again. “Hello, darling.”

Alex hasn’t touched the blood bag. It’s still in the fridge. Henry's oddly proud of him. He’s not going to say that. There’s also a cottage pie steaming on the stove, and an open bottle of wine on the counter.

Henry kisses him. God, he never would’ve thought he could have this.

Later, when they’re getting ready for bed and Alex sees the bruising, his nostrils flare a little and Henry figures he’s just bothered that Henry’s hurt. It’ll heal by morning.

“It’s not just that.” Alex’s fingers drag up and down over the mottled skin. “It’s like…Your blood is closer to the surface. Warmer. I can smell you.”

Henry is sure Alex can tell his heart’s beating faster, too.

“Oh.”

Alex grins, leans down to kiss Henry’s stomach, lashes fluttering.

“It’s sexy.”

Henry breathes out, “Oh,” again.

He’s tired. He is.

But.

They missed one another.

… … …

It takes two months for Alex to leave.

He leaves, obviously. He isn’t with Henry all the time, and they go out places together, too. They took a trip into London to see a football game and meet Bea for dinner. They’re not recluses.

But Alex, for all intents and purposes, lives with Henry.

It’s lovely. Henry’s lived with people - with lovers - over the years, but he’s never liked it quite as much as he does with Alex. It’s domestic, and sweet, and getting to know one another better is one of Henry’s favourite things he’s ever done.

And Alex is settling into being a vampire with Henry’s help. He’s actually taking to it beautifully, which, now that he knows Alex better, makes absolute sense. He knows Alex would not allow himself to be bad at anything. And now that he’s not wishing for death daily (though Henry knows it still happens with some regularity, and not in a joking manner), he’s able to focus his attention on making this work.

“I think I need to go home.”

Henry doesn’t want his heart to break. It shouldn’t. Alex isn’t breaking up with him. Right?

“Oh.” Henry sets down his tea. Alex grabs hold of him. “Alright. If you think that’s best.”

“Baby,” Alex says, smiling, like he thinks Henry’s being sweet. “C’mon. I just need to know if I can do this without you.”

Henry's brow furrows. “Why? You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yeah, cause you love me.” Henry sucks in a breath. Alex has done this a lot over the last two months, too. Reminded Henry how he feels. With words. Like a taunt. As if it’s something he should feel embarrassed about.

“Alex.”

“Just…A little time to prove it to myself.”

Henry can’t deny Alex anything. Well, Christ, that’s not true. He can absolutely deny Alex his own death. That’s different. He can’t deny him this.

“Okay,” Henry says, then nods for good measure. And the thing is, he isn’t worried. He’s just going to miss Alex. He’s loved having him here. “But we’re still—”

He hates himself for how he can’t even finish the question.

“Yeah,” Alex says, little smile on his lips. “Cause the thing is, Henry.”

Henry’s distracted looking at Alex’s mouth. Alex slips his hand into Henry’s hair to get his attention.

“Hm?”

“I’m also in love with you.”

If Alex was intending on leaving now, Henry has other ideas.

… … …

Henry had hoped nothing would change, even though he knew in his heart it would. They don’t spend all their time together. They don’t sleep together every night. They don’t even talk every day. To be fair, they’d discussed that. Alex is really feeling the need to find some independence, and Henry understands. He knows how to manage his vampirism more now, with Henry’s help. He doesn’t want to be dependent on anyone else. And that’s not something that’s new, either. Alex came to England on his own in part to prove a point to people who told him he’d be ruining his life if he quit practicing.

He’s stubborn. It’s one of the most beautiful things Henry has ever seen.

Alex still lets himself into Henry’s house. He has a key now, so that’s different. And now when he leaves, David mopes around like he’s lost his best friend. Possibly because Alex thinks that since David is immortal, he doesn’t need to worry about being fed too many table scraps.

“Oh stop,” Henry says to his dog one morning after Alex has left for work. He was wearing one of Henry’s shirts - a bit loose around the shoulders, but trim around his waist. David grumbles. “I suspect you’ll survive the day with only me for company.”

The thing is, they get called away to Suffolk to deal with a situation that’s unfolding. He texts Alex as much, and then gets into the car with his supplies and heads out. Alex texts him back to remind him to be safe, which Henry always is, anyway.

The whole thing ends up being a big misunderstanding, and Henry is home by 9pm. He knows Alex is there not only from the smoke coming from the chimney, but also the fact that David practically bounds towards the door.

Alex is laid up in Henry’s bed, naked and sweating like he’s been… like…

“David, out,” Henry says, and pushes the door shut. “What are you doing?”

“Expected you home later.” That’s not an answer to the question. “Honestly, I’m starving and I came here to keep myself away from people.”

Right. Now that Henry looks at him a little closer, he recognizes that Alex is a little more pale than usual, and his hands are shaking.

“Christ, love, you should’ve called me.” He reaches for the empty water glass by the bed and then fusses with the blankets, gets a warm, wet cloth and hands it to Alex. “I’ll go get you some blood. Don’t move.”

He heads to the basement and into the stock he keeps there. He’s having to replenish it more frequently these days, since it’s typically Alex’s main supply. He still has the abattoir he goes to, but that doesn’t always do the trick, and since he’s still so new to this, his appetite for human blood is still really unpredictable and probably will be this way for the next few years unless he feeds exclusively on humans, which he doesn’t want to do, obviously.

Henry gets some apples, a bit of his best chocolate, which he keeps hidden in the back of the pantry, a bottle of whisky, and some of the chips Alex likes that Henry now keeps stocked.

“Sometimes,” Alex says after drinking the entire bag in one go and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, “I still think I’d prefer death.”

Henry’s throat gets tight. It hurts a lot more than it should. He isn’t foolish enough to need or want to be Alex’s reason for living, but god, he also would’ve thought that their being together would make Alex’s life a little better.

“Okay.”

“I don’t mean–” Alex shifts, puts his hand around Henry’s bicep and grips hard. It’s…a thing Henry likes a lot. Not that Alex is doing it for that reason. Not that Henry would allow himself to be distracted right now anyway. “Not because of this, or you. It’s just like, staring down the barrel of the rest of eternity like this is fucking terrifying.”

“That makes sense.”

“When I feel good it’s fine. It’s nice, even. But when I feel bad, it’s like - god, what I wouldn’t fucking give to just be my human self again.”

Henry nods. He gets that. He does. To a degree. One of the main differences is that Henry’s entire family, even such as it is, is immortal. His best mate, too. Alex is alone, save for Henry and some vampires he’s met who don’t seem to be terrible. Like Shaan. Like Amy. Like Georgia, who should be an insufferable woman, given that she stems from 19th century aristocracy, but is actually lovely.

“Have you thought more about how you’ll tell your family?”

Alex shrugs, then loosens his grip on Henry’s arm, rubs his thumb back and forth. “How could I possibly know how to do that, you know?”

“Pez was serious with his offer, you know,” Henry offers. “The little spells he can cast to age you temporarily when you want to see them.”

Pez is very talented and very generous. He’s capable of a lot. He can help Alex.

“Yeah. Maybe that’s best. Just no extended visits, or I’ll end up like this.” This probably means how he felt 10 minutes ago, not now, when his colour’s coming back and his hands aren’t shaking any longer. “Unless I travel with a human juice box.”

Henry, stupidly jealous and unable to stop himself, says, “If you’re going to drink anyone’s blood, it’s going to be mine.”

He can’t read the look on Alex’s face. It’s perhaps just as possessive as Henry feels.

“I don’t have it in me to talk about that right now,” Alex says. Henry believes him. And it’s good. That’s…that’s a topic for another day. “Wanna tell me about your day?”

Henry takes a deep breath, settles in beside Alex, and they share a glass of whisky while Henry talks. Sometime in the night while Henry sleeps, Alex lets David in because he is both extremely persuaded by David’s huffing outside the door, and easily bored when Henry’s sleeping and he’s awake. Alex is texting with his sister when Henry wakes up in the morning. He sees that Alex has typed, ’henry’s awake talk later.’

He smiles. He didn’t know Alex had told anyone about them.

… … …

“How do you get the blood, anyway?” Alex asks.

He’s currently piping buttercream onto pretty little lavender vanilla cupcakes, because he’s decided to get ‘really fucking good’ at a bunch of things now that he’s going to live forever, and he’s started with baking. Henry doesn’t dare discourage him anyway - never would tell someone they couldn’t do a thing they wanted to - but especially not because he likes when Alex references living a long time with any kind of fondness instead of wishing for death. It still feels novel. It makes Henry smile. Even if he is considering extending his daily runs to 10ks because their kitchen is always stocked now with delicious pastries and buttery cookies.

“The local blood bank.”

Alex looks up, brow furrowed like he’s displeased. “You take it from people who need it?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d explain it. I have a partnership with the bloodbank - all hunters do, in their local areas - where we help drive donations, and then take 2% of what’s offered. It’s a small price for them to pay to ensure the local population doesn’t end up drained and dismembered by ravenous vampires.”

Alex seems to think this over, and still, apparently, has some kind of moral dilemma he’s bandying about in his mind. “How many other vampires do you supply?”

Ah, a genuine misunderstanding. “No one, with any frequency. It’s mostly used for bait. If someone is in true dire need, I help. In this area, that is a short list. The vampires around here have their human friends and…confidantes.”

Alex scoffs. He finishes icing a cupcake with a little floret. It’s quite pretty.

“Confidantes. That’s funny.” Henry shrugs his shoulder and drinks his tea. “Have you ever had someone drink from you?”

Henry shifts uncomfortably. “Once.” Alex stands at attention and looks at him. Very interested. Possessive, yet again. It’s not a surprise. “In a melee. It wasn’t consensual. It was meant to stop me from killing her.”

“Did it work?”

Henry tilts his head. He doesn’t particularly like talking about this. But also, it was 115 years ago, give or take, so it’s not like he’s got unprocessed trauma, or something.

“No. It got her close enough that I could stake her through her heart.”

Alex’s lips part. Henry knows that look.

“I really shouldn’t be turned on, but you’re like, super fucking hot, actually.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “May I have a cupcake?”

Alex grins and slides one across the kitchen island. “All for you.”

Henry shouldn’t even think about believing that.

He does, anyway.

… … …

Alex marks the one year anniversary of being turned by making a cake. It’s red velvet with black icing and a big, obnoxious ‘1’ candle sticking out the top. Henry comes in with groceries and it’s sitting atop the kitchen island, and Alex is making some kind of sandwich.

Henry’s honestly just happy that Alex is celebrating rather than being angry.

Later, in bed, with the last of a too-big slice of cake sitting on the bedside table, Henry works his fingers through the little tangles in Alex’s hair.

“You know, if we’d met when I was a human, you would’ve liked me a lot faster.”

Henry scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s impossible.” He can feel Alex smiling where his cheek is resting on Henry’s chest. “If you were a human, I’d be miserable, wondering how I was going to ever get over you.”

Alex hums. “One perk to the whole living forever thing, I guess,” he says, then turns his head so he’s looking at Henry. “You get to be with me for as long as you want.”

Henry’s heart rate quickens. Alex doesn’t say anything about it, but he does press his lips there like he’s barely stopping himself from teasing Henry about it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to accurately explain the feeling he had before, believing so deeply he could never have this.

Alex changed everything. And while Henry is still furious that such a heinous thing happened to Alex the way it did, he isn’t going to ignore or deny how much good has come of it for both of them. It’s a complicated thing, and they don’t tend to address it head on, and that’s okay for now.

They have so much time.

… … …

Alex’s sister, mother and step-father come for a visit. Nora joins them after a few days, having spent some time in Normandy with a cousin, or something. She’d asked Alex if Henry knew anyone there. They’d lied and said he didn’t, because the only person Henry knows there is a witch who loves Henry, Bea and Pez, but doesn’t take too kindly to new people. Even humans, like Nora, who would likely ask for honorary membership to the coven rather than being scared.

June and Ellen seem to think Alex and Henry are living together, which does not bother Alex, if the way he doesn’t bother to correct them is any indication. They’re all staying at Henry’s, anyway, which was always the plan, and frankly, Henry hadn’t put much thought at all into wondering what that might look like to them. He simply has enough space and wants Alex to see his family however often he can and wishes to while they’re here.

Ellen asks how long the home has been in Henry’s family. She asks if the antiques are real or replicas. She asks how Henry’s dealing with her son’s newest obsession, and he shows her the blisters on his heels from his extra cardio. She laughs and taps her glass of Chardonnay against his.

The first night, they’re in Henry’s bed after they’ve all turned in. Henry is reading, and David’s in his bed in the corner, and Alex is eavesdropping. He likes to say he doesn’t make a face when he’s listening intently, but he absolutely does. Henry decides to ignore it right now.

Then Alex says, “They like you,” and slides his hand over Henry’s thigh.

Henry pushes his hand away and turns his page. “I’m very charming,” he says, secretly delighted to have it confirmed.

“Mom says you’re smart and very polite.”

“I am.” Alex kisses a line across Henry’s shoulder. “What are you playing at? Your family is right down the hall.”

“Just because I can hear them doesn’t mean they can hear us.”

It’s a ridiculous thing to say, for a few reasons, which Henry absolutely must make clear.

“Darling, you are never quiet when you come. Be serious. And also.” He pushes Alex gently away. Alex is grinning like he might still win this. “Do you really want to hear your mother talking about my antique settee while you’ve got my cock in your mouth?”

Alex just blinks at him, face blank, and says, eventually, “You are the absolute fucking worst.”

… … …

Henry is exhausted by the time Alex’s family leaves to head back to the US. They’re incredible, all of them, but the only ones who don’t match Alex for energy are June and Leo, and even that seems to be just a near miss. It was lovely to have a full house, and to see Alex with the people he loves the most, but Henry really would love some quiet time.

“Jesus Christ,” Alex mutters after coming back from dropping them at the airport. Henry is sat reading with a fire dying because he’s not been bothered enough by it to put another log on. “Oh, hey.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Alex drops his keys on the table and then comes over and flops onto the couch, pushing his head onto Henry’s lap. “I’m gonna miss them.”

They’ve talked about this a few times. The difficulty of travelling when you also need to feed. It is, frankly, how many vampires are captured and killed. They leave it too long, end up too hungry, and make poor choices.

Henry would never let that happen to Alex.

… … …

“Bollocks,” Henry groans, jerking his finger back from the rose bush.

“Henry?” Alex is immediately at his side, which is almost funny, really, if only because Henry’s had a lifetime of dealing with things - especially minor scrapes or tussles with foliage - and now he has someone who comes running any time he nicks himself.

“I’m alright. I was being careless.” He brings his finger up and looks at it, the perfect, round little bead of blood right there on the edge of his index finger.

Alex’s response is a shaky, “Oh.”

Right.

Alex last had human blood three days ago. He’s not in need yet. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want it, if he came across it this way.

Henry knows how good Alex is. And he knows how restrained, and how well he’ll be able to control himself. And he also knows that if Alex can’t, for some reason, Henry has methods for subduing him. He won’t need to do that.

He says, “Darling,” and holds up his finger. “Go on.”

“I can’t,” Alex breathes, but he sure looks like he can.

And anyway, Henry doesn’t need to say anything more before Alex is putting one hand on his wrist with the other gently cradling Henry’s knuckles, and bringing the finger to his mouth.

Henry gets to watch and enjoy the way it looks to see Alex close his eyes at the taste. Hears him moan like he does when they’re in bed. Feels his tongue and the suction and the way his fangs slide over the skin without breaking it.

It feels good, like Henry knew it would. Fucking glorious, really.

Alex pulls away after a moment, tugs Henry closer and buries his face in Henry’s neck.

He says, “Fuck,” like he’s satisfied, and Henry…

Well.

He wants Alex to have everything.

… … …

Pez and Bea show up unannounced with tales of a huge issue (band of exiled vampires) plaguing farmers in Belgium, for which they need help from him and Pip, and also need a vampire who they trust to assist.

Alex looks giddy.

Henry’s more worried about Alex meeting Pip than he is anything to do with the work. Alex insists he’s charming. Henry considers hiding their whole relationship, but that feels like just kicking the issue down the road.

Pip dislikes Alex immediately, but then when he needs saving and Alex is the one standing in front of him and blocking him from having his throat ripped out by a bloodthirsty vampire, he looks marginally impressed.

When Alex brings Henry a cup of tea in the morning when he’s made himself another cup of coffee in the Airbnb’s kitchen, Pip gives Henry a look like he might actually approve.

Over dinner, when Pip makes some stupid comment about Henry’s love life and all who have come and gone before him, Alex replies, simply, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Philip turns to Henry, brow raised, little grin on his lips, and raises his glass.

… … …

Things have been quiet a while, and Alex has all but moved back in, which Henry isn’t upset about in the slightest, even if they haven't talked about it. He doesn’t think they actually need to talk about it. Alex doesn’t need to sell his house, and Henry has room, and David loves having them both here, and everyone is safer for all of it.

Alex is making him watch all of The West Wing from the start. They’ve joined a book club. Alex made someone’s wedding cake, and then decided he was kind of over baking for a bit and is taking up needlepoint. Henry’s gotten Alex to stop feeding David so much, and they run together a few times a week, and Henry has truly never been happier.

… … …

Henry’s being so patient. So, so patient. Alex does this thing sometimes where he likes to trace the veins in Henry’s body when they’re both naked. Run the tips of his fingers over them, kiss the insides of his elbows and his wrists and the spots on his hips where you can see the blue through his skin.

Right now, Alex is on top of him, head tilted as he assesses, hands firm and strong against Henry’s body. They have time, so Henry isn’t in a rush. Of the two of them, he’s the one more willing to wait for his orgasm and for Alex to do whatever he likes.

Alex’s hand comes up to Henry’s throat. He presses his fingers against Henry’s pulse, then Alex is the one gasping, which is so fucking beautiful Henry can only watch as Alex takes his time.

“I need it,” Alex says, quiet, like begging.

Henry knows what he needs. He doesn’t hesitate.

“Ask.”

Alex smiles down at him briefly, then exhales a heavy breath and lets his tongue run over his teeth.

“Will you let me?” Alex asks, more sure of himself now that it’s clear he’s going to get what he wants. He presses his fingers hard, then releases, only to drag them down the front of Henry’s throat. Henry tilts his head back, but he figures he should give verbal consent.

“Yes.”

Alex shifts atop him. They’re both hard, and Alex is slick and loose from where Henry had opened him up and gotten him off earlier. It’s actually incredibly hot that it’s so easy for Alex to take Henry in hand and then sit back and take him. Henry’s mouth drops open at the sensation, and Alex lets out a low grown Henry can feel in his own body.

Then Alex leans down, pushes his hips back - fuck - and uses his hand to turn Henry’s head to the side. His breath is coming out against Henry’s skin, then he licks over the spot he likes, and he doesn’t ask Henry if he’s sure, and he’s fucking him when he bites down and breaks the skin. Henry gasps at the pain and how quickly it turns to pleasure. He tries to move his hips, but Alex stops him with his own body, and Henry just lies there and takes it.

Alex shifts his hips faster as he drinks, and Henry’s going to come from the feeling of that, and the pleasure of Alex’s mouth against his neck, and he holds on tight to Alex. He should have a better handle on when to tell Alex to stop, but it feels so good he doesn’t want it to end.

Alex pulls away, though. Henry whines at the loss, and then Alex is sitting up again, moving faster, and Henry finally opens his eyes. When he sees Alex with blood around his mouth and dripping down onto his chest, it’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Alex,” he breathes, reaching up to drag his fingers through the blood on Alex’s chest. Alex grabs his hand, brings Henry’s fingers to his mouth. It’s rougher than it was that day in the garden. “More.”

“No.” Alex is almost laughing. Taunting. He leans down for a kiss, and finally lets Henry fuck up into him until they’re both so breathless it makes them sound like they’re about to die. “Fuck, Henry, you taste so good, baby.”

Henry comes. It’s practically surprised out of him. He can’t help it. Alex’s words, and the taste of blood in his mouth, and the feel of Alex, wet and tight around him, it’s all too much. And Alex follows him, anyway. Alex likes being full, likes the feeling when Henry comes inside him, and Henry is positive the fact that he’s just drank blood has pushed him closer to the edge, too.

They both usually last longer.

Alex falls forward, presses his face against Henry’s neck. It’s a little sensitive, though he knows the puncture marks will be gone in a matter of moments.

Then Alex laughs. It feels bloody intense, because Henry’s still inside him, but Henry just slips a hand into his hair and holds him.

“Fuck me,” Alex breathes.

Henry can’t make the easy joke. He just turns his head a little so Alex can nuzzle in closer.

“If we’re not careful, I might become addicted to that,” Henry confesses.

“No complaints here.”

Alex moves so Henry slips from his body, then flops himself atop Henry and rests his chin somewhere around Henry’s chest. He’s covered in blood. Henry’s blood. Henry licks his lips and tastes it, too.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” Alex says. Henry just watches him, pushes his hair back.

Henry says, “I know,” quietly, because he does know, and it’s absolutely because of how they met, and how they started this, and that he’s now let Alex drink from him.

But it’s not just because of that. They trust one another. Henry’s never trusted anyone more. He’s never honestly felt like he could ever be happy in a way that wasn’t simply temporary, until Alex came into his life and had the audacity to stay.

… … …

It’s been five years. Five years of Alex, and his seemingly random hobbies, and his mile-a-minute talking when he’s excited, and his kisses before he leaves the house, and his body next to Henry’s in bed at night even though he doesn’t need to sleep. Five years of spoiling their dog, and landscaping the garden, and a coffee cup next to a tea cup on the counter every morning, no matter who goes downstairs first. Five years of Alex drinking from Henry when he needs to. Five years of sex, and bonding, and caring about each other in ways that are absolutely too much to be human.

They’re walking David one night as the sun is going down, and Henry slips his arm around Alex as they round the bend towards their home and see the smoke from the chimney and the willow in the front yard.

Alex tilts his head back to look at Henry.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he warns, and Henry raises a brow and glances at him. “But I’m so in love I could die.”

Henry laughs, kisses him, shakes his head and pulls him closer.

“I still won’t allow it.”

Alex grins and just nods his head like he knows that, too.