JakeDirk Age Difference AU; 20 something Dirk is old man Jake's kept boy-toy (not canon Bro and Grandpa, but similarities are fine).

(Sorry this isn’t exactly what you asked for but I also got an anon request for vampires, so… Two birds?)

Dirk laughs, loud, because that’s what he does in such situations, the kind that make his sternum clench and his knuckles whiten. He grins, and laughs, and says “Fuck, English, you still look good to me,” his hands pressing against—clutching—the lapels of Jake’s suit jacket. It’s the one adorned with elbow patches worthy of the quirky, eccentric professor Dirk is proud to have watched Jake become. The fabric is scratchy and stiff in his fingers.

Jake presses a wrinkled thumb to his pallid cheek. Slides it down to the corner of Dirk’s thin mouth. He pulls his hand back, the drag of affection leaving an empty tingle on Dirk’s skin.

“I’m dying,” Jake says again. He steps back. Lapels slide from Dirk’s grip.

The immortal’s mouth contorts into something unrecognizable. He slides narrow hips off Jake’s large cherry-finished desk. Pulls down the indie band adorned tee that had ridden up in the sudden—too quickly passed—spark of desperate affection between him and Jake.

Just like the 60s.

And the 70s.

And the—

“We had a good run, Strider,” Jake says. It’s a weak attempt at mutual complacency. Dirk feels bile rise in his throat.

“—You can’t just,” he spits, sudden and harsh. “You have options, don’t you? A timeline? These damn hospitals around here are too expensive to not give you at least the surface grandeur of a fuckin’ chance—”

“Seven months,” Jake says.

Dirk looks up from his swirling, confused thoughts. The kind that haunt a 20-something; the ones that stay no matter how long one has been a 20-something. Dirk wishes he could escape them. He wishes, for the first time, he could grow old. The decrepit hobble of an old man would be bearable if Jake was there, if Jake was by his side—

“Seven months,” Jake repeats. “I’m thinking of taking a trip. You know. One last go-around for old time’s sake.”

Dirk shakes his head, again and again, harder and more violent. “There’s got to be something—”

“Strider,” Jake says, “Dirk, dear, honey,” he adds, “the only thing you could possibly do for me is come along.”