Oh good lord, it happened again… I am trying to write a short Jon/Elias vampire AU. It was supposed to be just one scene, but noooooo, it started developing a plot… damn it.
Anyway, have a draft of a first scene I guess…?
***
His hands were shaking.
The tremor wasn’t particularly pronounced, not yet, but it did make it considerably more difficult to operate the lighter. It took him several tries to get the flame going. Then he caught himself staring at it, hypnotized, before he finally brought a cigarette to his lips and lit the tip.
He took a long drag; the flame caught, and smoke curled in the chilly morning air. He could feel the acrid smell of it, he felt his chest expand, his lungs welcoming the intrusion. This was, perhaps, the best part of the process: the rhythm of it, the deep, methodical inhale, the pause as he held in the smoke and his breath until it burned, and the sweet, sweet relief of a long, calming exhale.
He needed that. He needed that more and more often lately. It was a creeping realization that ought to have concerned him more. But, for the moment, he allowed himself to relax.
“This can’t be good for you,” said a voice to his left.
Jon froze. He hadn’t noticed the man’s presence - and now he was too close, so very close. The smell of smoke was potent, yes, but underneath it he could already feel other scents vying for his attention - aftershave, expensive cologne, a hint of sweat, and the metallic tang of blood—
“I’m not doing it because it’s good for me,” Jon said. He held the cigarette loosely between thumb and forefinger, and tried not to breathe too deeply.
“Why, then?”
The man stepped closer still - warm, warm body, his heartbeat strong and steady, pumping blood through arteries and veins. And, fuck—Jon made the mistake of looking at him, his gaze caught immediately by his exposed neck, his jugular vein, the faint, tantalizing beat of his pulse within the carotid arteries. It would be so, so easy to close that last bit of distance, to sink his teeth in the heat of his flesh, to pierce the vessel and suck - he could almost taste it, thick, warm, blood—
“What do you want, Elias?” Jon asked sharply.
The tremor in his hands was back with a vengeance. He barely managed to lift the cigarette to his lips and breathe in more smoke, more, enough to drown out all other scents.
Elias gave him one of his infuriating smiles, friendly and full of faux concern.
“Am I not allowed to care about the health and wellbeing of my employees?”
“Of course you are,” Jon said.
Right. This was his boss. His boss, who he had just snapped at, whose blood he couldn’t help but imagine drinking.
Fuck. It was bad, it was worse than he had feared. Too much time had passed. He needed—he needed to deal with it.
“I apologize,” Jon said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Oh, no need for that,” Elias said pleasantly. “I did interrupt you, after all.”
Jon stood there, awkward, unsure what to say. Finally, he forced himself to meet Elias’ gaze. His cool, grey eyes were soothing, in a way; they reminded Jon that he wasn’t a damn meal to be devoured, that he was an innocent human being, a renowned scholar in his own right, and, oh - Jon’s own supervisor.
“Have you thought about my offer?” Elias asked.
“What—oh,” Jon said. His thoughts were sluggish these days, barely flowing together. “Yes, I have. And I am grateful, it’s just. Not the right time for me to transfer.”
“Are you sure? I believe you would make an excellent Head Archivist.”
“Thank you,” Jon said, because what else was there to say? That he wouldn’t, couldn’t take responsibility for any potential assistants? That his job in Research suited him just fine, offering ample time to conduct his own investigations? That the Archives called out to him in some strange manner, that he would love nothing more than to sort out the mess Gertrude Robinson had left - but the thought of talking to living, breathing people, taking their statements, investigating their connections to the supernatural… it felt too much like a hunt.
No. No, it was safer to hunt down information, books, relics, articles, places. The thrill of it was (almost, almost) like the real thing. And no one had to get hurt.
Elias was giving him a thorough, searching look. It wasn’t particularly judgmental - Elias seldom acted like he took his job seriously - but it was enough to make Jon drop his gaze and roll the c cigarette between his fingers, trying to conceal the tremor in his hands.
But Elias noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “If you need to take some time off—“
“No,” Jon said. Sitting alone in his apartment with nothing to distract him from the ever-present hunger was the very last thing he needed. “Why do you ask? Is my performance unsatisfactory?”
“On the contrary,” Elias said. “I have been informed that you work so much overtime, you are rarely seen leaving the Institute. And your reports are exemplary, as always. Although their subject strikes me as peculiar.”
Jon could feel a spike of adrenaline, his pulse speeding up, his breathing deepening. Worse was the accompanying dull pain of his fangs and claws extending, his fight-or-flight response instinctively swinging towards the first option.
“How so?” he asked carefully.
Elias shrugged. “Not many scholars believe in the existence of vampires. Fewer still choose to research them so thoroughly.”
“I am not researching them,” Jon said sharply. “I am trying to disprove their existence once and for all.”
A spark of amusement shone in Elias’ eyes. “It is almost impossible to logically prove something doesn’t exist.”
“I know.”
“Ah. Then are you sure this is the right use of your considerable skills?”
Jon bit his tongue, pressing his lips tight enough to prevent his teeth from showing. He wanted to bare them, snarl at Elias and bite, drink his precious blood and quench that horrible thirst he was feeling.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t a monster, he would fix this, he would…
After a long, stubborn pause, Elias shook his head in mild exasperation. “If you insist on pursuing this, I’m pretty sure there are several statements in the Archives from people who claim to have met actual vampires.”
“Oh?” That was promising. Written statements were all right, so long as he didn’t have to talk to anyone face to face. “Which ones? Where can I find them?”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Elias said. “Gertrude left the Archives in such a state, you can hardly find anything in there…”
The sentence was left dangling in the air. Jon stared at Elias, incredulous.
“Are you trying to manipulate me into doing that job?”
Elias placed his hand on his chest, eyes widening, in a theatrical, exaggerated expression of innocent confusion.
“Me? I would never,” he exclaimed.
Jon couldn’t help but laugh at this blatant display of faux sincerity. A strange warmth spread through him as Elias’ features settled into a more genuine smile.
“We could help each other, Jon,” he said. “I really need someone to sort out the Archives, and you need more data for your research. Give it a week or two. If you are still uninterested afterwards, I promise to never bring it up again.”
Two weeks wasn’t that long a time. And it wasn’t as if Jon was making any progress with the Library records. It could at least point him in the right direction…
“Fine,” he said. “Two weeks.”
It was almost worth it already, just to have Elias give him such a warm smile.
