AN: Written for the Winter Fandom Raffle Exchange on GatheringFiki

Pairing: Anders Johnson/John Mitchell

Worth It

Anders rubbed at his temples as he pushed his way through the heavy washroom door, finally feeling the pain in his head fade slightly as the pounding music in the club was muted. It was still an annoying drone, but much more manageable, and he sighed and leaned back against the door for just a moment.

He badly needed a break. From life, from work, from…family. Mostly that last one. He just wanted to be Anders for once, not Bragi, god of poetry, and eternally cursed to be the butt of every joke. Because it was a curse, or was becoming more of one, the longer he had to deal with all of this god shit. Life was pretty great when all he had to worry about was which man or woman he was heading home with in the evening. But things weren't quite so easy anymore.

He'd been stupid enough to think a night out, at a different club, one no other gods frequented, might make a difference. But no one was catching his eye, and he couldn't get his mind off of the things he wanted to. And oddly enough, using Bragi's charm wasn't quite as appealing or satisfying as it once was. It was somewhat disheartening to be faced with the reality that no one actually wanted Anders. That it was Bragi all along that brought people to his bed. His brothers would never let him hear the end of it.

He let his gaze fall around the room, taking in the old Victorian style décor. The club definitely had an appeal to a certain type of clientele. Was that Anders? No, probably not. But that meant no one would go looking for him there either. It was clearly for the more gothic and brooding sort, people who wanted to grind against each other in a place that harkened back to another time. Even the washroom was darkly lit and ornately stylized. It featured several stalls, but with brick walls separating them instead of the traditional cheap steel. The urinals looked incredibly out of place on the far wall, though the sinks and mirrors running along the space to his left fit in just fine. There was only one other thing that stood out.

Anders opened his mouth slightly as his gaze fell upon an extremely attractive backside, and he couldn't help but take in those long slender legs, every single inch of them that led down toward the tile floor. By the gods that was a beautiful man. He was wearing torn up jeans and a slightly too small leather jacket. It was perfectly grungy, and he fit right in. Anders couldn't make out the man's features with how slumped he was, but he saw the cut off gloves on those willowy fingers, and the way they grasped the counter tightly. His posture made it clear he was frustrated, and it looked as though he was breathing heavily, possibly having just gotten into an argument. The messy hair only made him look even wilder, and Anders couldn't help but grin. Finally, something, someone, who caught his eye.

Anders stepped forward, keeping his footfalls as soft as possible, as he moved further into the washroom. If he could just catch a glimpse of the man's face.

He took in the entire scene one last time before glancing up at the mirror, only to freeze when the man's reflection caught his attention…or lack of one that is. Anders felt a cold chill run up his spine, suddenly aware of the fact that this man wasn't human. And fuck but the weird shit had found him when he was doing his best to avoid it, and in a washroom of all places. He clenched his jaw and almost walked right back out. Because no. Hell no. But his eyes roamed that lithe body one more time, up the legs, to the attractive ass, that dark curly hair. He shifted again to the side, took in the profile. Fuck.

The man was a god. Had to be.

Maybe it would be worth it to root him after all.

"Havin' a rough night?" Anders asked, as he eased up to the counter, taking a moment to roll up his sleeves in a falsely confident manner. The man looked up at him, narrowing his dark eyes and tensing his jaw strangely. He looked perfectly normal. Perfectly human, if a bit pale and otherworldly. Anders knew there was a catch. Didn't make him want the guy any less.

"I can make it better," he said with a smile, and the man rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Not interested," he grunted, voice low and gravelly and everything Anders ever wanted to hear calling out his name in the midst of climax.

"You sure?" Anders asked one last time, before easing into his other voice to test the waters. "I think you are. I think you would love nothing more than to spread those long legs of yours and let me fuck that tight ass."

He could feel Bragi's power coursing through him more strongly than usual, and Anders grinned when the man twitched and looked up at him with a strange glint in his eye. That heated gaze ran over Anders's features, stopping at his lips for a moment, and the brunet furrowed his brow as if noticing something was off.

So he definitely wasn't human after all. But the question was, just what was he?

"What are you?" the man beat him to the question, eyes narrowed and voice little more than a whisper.

"What are you?" Anders questioned in return. He took that moment to look directly in the mirror, where only his own reflection stared back, and the man followed his gaze, finally noticing what had tipped him off. The brunet's body tensed visibly, enough that it set Anders on edge, and he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you," Anders reassured, and he ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation. "I just want to have a good time, and you…are the hottest thing I've seen all night," he added. The man swallowed and took a moment to finally look Anders over from head to toe. It was clear he was interested on some level, and when his shoulders relaxed slightly Anders stepped even closer.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered in the man's ear, and Anders was pleased when a shudder ran through his lithe form. The brunet's gaze faded for a moment, clearly under the influence of Bragi, but it flashed back a second later and he glared at Anders fiercely.

"What are you doing?" the man hissed, his mouth pulling back in a vicious sneer. It should have been enough to scare Anders off, but he couldn't help but feel intrigued. His words had some effect, but the man was clearly able to resist the pull behind them. So he wasn't a god…but he was…something. Something special. And likely dangerous.

"We both know you want it," Anders tried again, shifting into place behind the other man's form. He breathed in at the back of the brunet's neck, closing his eyes when the musky scent filled his nostrils. It could go one of two ways. In five minutes he'd either be balls deep inside the sexiest creature alive, or he'd be bleeding out on the cold floor and regretting all of his life decisions up until that point. He was really hoping for the sex to be honest.

The brunet shuddered as air tickled the hairs at his nape, and surprisingly let his head fall back to rest against Anders's shoulder, and that was enough to encourage him to continue. Anders reached around and dragged his fingers down the man's front, catching in the fabric of his worn t-shirt before sliding into the waistband of his jeans and popping the button open.

"When's the last time someone took you apart?" Anders whispered against his skin, and the man positively whined as Anders slid his hand lower and started jerking him off in long smooth strokes. His skin was cool to the touch, and he didn't flush the way someone so pale would be expected to, but his arousal was no less obvious. He bucked against the counter, jerking back into Anders with each long drag against his cock. His eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth opened as he panted, and Anders groaned against him while searching his pockets for a packet of lube.

This was exactly what he needed, what they both needed. A quick release, a moment to let go. It took what felt like an age for Anders to rip open the packet, coat his fingers, and slide them down the back of the man's tight jeans. He pushed the fabric out of the way slightly, exposing an equally pale ass to his view, and Anders hummed as he eyed the slight swells lustfully. He really was perfect.

As he slid a single finger inside the man, an arm flew back and gripped Anders hard, strong fingers clasping in the crease of his elbow. It hurt, and Anders paused, surprised by the man's uncanny strength. If he had wanted it, Anders was sure his body would have found its way across the room, tossed away like no more than a flimsy piece of trash. Anders figured the man could even give Axl a run for his money in a fight.

"I've got you. Feels good doesn't it," Anders asked, curling his finger in a way that made the man cry out in surprise. His grasp loosened, and Anders sighed, wondering if there would be bruises lining his skin in the morning. For some reason the idea of that didn't even bother him. It would all be worth it. Every last mark, just for the sight before his eyes. The man was shifting forward and back, seemingly unable to decide which he wanted more, the hand stroking his cock, or the finger knuckle deep inside him. Anders hardly even had to move, just holding still as the brunet rocked against him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his skin sweating slightly as he bit down on his lower lip with sharp teeth. Were they that sharp before? Anders felt his arousal pressing uncomfortably against its confines, and he stopped and hurried to unzip his pants. The man tensed again, turning his head towards him with narrowed eyes. For a moment Anders thought he was about to change his mind and push him away, but the brunet's expression morphed into a teasing sneer, his eyebrow raised in defiance.

"Why'd you stop? Talk a big game, but can't follow through with your promises?" The man accused, and Anders couldn't help but smirk in response. He clasped the man's hips tightly and spread his ass cheeks, lining up and driving forward in one quick movement. The man gasped and collapsed over the edge of the counter, and Anders was surprised when the brick wall cracked and began to give way in response. He pulled out again, pushed back in eagerly, drawing yet another cry from the man's lips.

"This what you want sweetheart?" Anders muttered, not even bothering to make use of Bragi any longer. It was clear he didn't need to for once. The man groaned, his back arching when Anders started moving in a steady rhythm, grinding into the man repeatedly. Anders dropped his gaze, watching where he disappeared inside the brunet's body. It was almost hypnotizing, following his steady movements. He couldn't help but look up towards the mirror. His jaw clenched when he saw only himself thrusting against empty air. And yeah, he was a bit of a narcissist, but it was fucking hot. Watching his cock drip and leak while he felt it sliding inside the man's slick hole. Gods, he wasn't going to last long.

Anders let his hands roam across the other man's skin, trailing beneath his shirt, and running down his back and sides. It was well received, and the man pushed back against him with a moan, drawing Anders deeper into his body. The counter shook, and Anders reached up, sliding his fingers into the brunet's dark curly hair, and then he reached around with his other hand to jerk the man off. His cock was slick and dripping, and after just a few strokes he was tensing and pulsing in Anders's hand.

"Yeah, let go, come on babe," Anders groaned, thrusting as deep as he could manage until the man's body was pressed hard against the restroom counter. He ground his hips against the brunet, jerking through his climax, and he couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh as he slumped over the man's body. It took a while for Anders to regain any semblance of control, and even then he slid from inside the brunet regretfully. He stepped back, eyeing the man's still bent form. The brunet was breathing heavily, his back rising up and down quickly. The countertop was hardly holding on, the ceramic cracked and crumbling beneath his fingers. He was gripping it so tightly Anders could see the veins and tendons in his hand popping up from beneath his skin. It looked as though he was a second away from lashing out. Anders wanted to run gentle fingers down his long spine, ease the man back down from whatever dark place he had gone, but someone else took that moment to interrupt, walking into the washroom in a drunken stupor.

The brunet hissed loudly and turned his head towards the sound, showing off his face in all its demonic glory. And Anders felt his blood run cold. His eyes were solid black, his mouth bared as he revealed long sharp fangs. Any hint of humanity was gone entirely. Anders jolted away, not even caring that his cock was still hanging out the front of his pants. He had a few other priorities in that moment. Like watching as the man, no…creature, clenched its hands, finally breaking through the countertop and shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.

"Holy shit," Anders breathed. Of all the possibilities…he definitely wasn't expecting a vampire. That was a completely different level of scary, and he was suddenly overcome with fear for his life. For all his bitching and complaining, Anders really didn't want to die just yet. He had…things to do, good fucks to be had. He was half a second away from bolting for the door, but by the time he turned towards it the vampire had thrown his body away harshly into the stalls behind. Anders crashed into the ground violently, shaking his head as he fought to clear his vision. He shifted against the shattered wood of the stall door, and blinked towards the other end of the restroom, where the blurry creature stood holding the club-goer up against the wall. The vampire bared its fangs again, before twisting the stranger's neck to the side and sinking them into the skin to draw blood. Anders gaped at the sight in disbelief.

"Stop!" he shouted, not really thinking about the consequences of getting in between a vampire and its next meal. It wasn't like him to get involved. He probably should have just run for it, slipped past and hoped he was long gone by the time the poor dude was drunk dry. But something compelled him to try and help. Who he was helping…remained to be seen. As it turned out, his words had little effect, and blood continued to seep down the stranger's skin while his body flailed against the wall. Anders groaned as he moved to his knees. Several splinters of wood fell from his jacket, and he tucked himself away, tried to retain some semblance of modesty despite getting caught pants half down in a public washroom. The onlooker probably wouldn't live to remember it anyway. Heck, Anders might not even live to care. As he tried to get up his body disagreed with his decision, and he fell forwards while holding a hand against his definitely bruised ribs. He really couldn't escape the abuse. His mortal body just wasn't made to deal with immortal shit.

"Let. Go," he boomed, his voice echoing throughout the room with the full force of Bragi's persuasion. The vampire's body stiffened and Anders was legitimately surprised when it fell back, dropping its victim to the ground. Thankfully, the stranger appeared fine, though more than a little shaken as he scrambled back against the wall and threw his fingers to his bleeding neck. Perhaps he was too drunk to really understand what had happened. Hopefully he wasn't so drunk he'd just bleed out. Anders stood on unsteady legs, stepping closer as he looked the man on the ground in the eyes.

"You will forget everything you saw here. You got drunk, got in a bar fight. All you want to do is go home and sleep," Anders compelled, and the man nodded his head absently, his eyes glazing over as he all but crawled towards the door. It was a small relief when he left the washroom, and Anders shifted his gaze quickly to the vampire still staring ahead. There was blood dripping down its face, pooling in the crease beneath its lips, and its jaw snapped up and down while tremors ran through its entire body. If he played this wrong, Anders knew he'd end up its next meal.

"Calm down," Anders spoke intently, and he watched as the vampire's brow furrowed and its mouth relaxed to cover most of its fangs. Anders stepped closer again, careful not to startle it with any sudden movements. "That's it, come back to yourself," he said calmly, his heart racing as he stared the brunet down. The next time the vampire's eyes fell upon him, they had returned to a beautiful deep brown.

"Easy," Anders whispered, and suddenly the man slumped to the ground, crumpling in on himself with a whimper. Anders knelt beside him, any thoughts of making a quick getaway gone from his mind. There was something different going on here. This man wasn't a mindless monster. He wasn't a killer. But he might become one without the right help. Anders wasn't sure what he expected, but when the man looked up his eyes were completely clear, though tear filled, and his teeth had returned back to normal. The only thing that gave away his secret was the blood staining his skin. Anders let his shoulders relax slightly as he saw the horrified expression on the man's face, and he couldn't help but lift a hand and set it against the back of his neck, stroking the cool skin in a soothing manner. He looked devastated, ashamed. He looked a complete mess.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm…I didn't mean to," he stuttered between sobs, and Anders watched him with oddly burning eyes. "I've been trying…I can't, I can't do this anymore," he added, tilting his head down as he covered his face with his hands. For all of the power he had exuded just minutes prior, he now looked fragile and worn beyond his years. It was heartbreaking, watching him fall apart. And so very relatable.

"You're a vampire," Anders stated, for lack of anything else to say. He wasn't good at consoling. He was total shit with feelings in general. But he got a nod in return, and then the man dropped his hands into his lap and heaved a sigh.

"What are you?" he asked again, staring at Anders with red rimmed eyes. His eyelashes were clumped together, and his skin laced with red stained tear tracks. It was an unusual combination.

"A god," Anders admitted, and he received a surprised snort in response. There was a hint of a grin on the man's face, and it was gorgeous, something to treasure, though it faded away as quick as it appeared. Anders raised an eyebrow, and the man eyed him for a moment before tilting his head to the side.

"You actually are, aren't you?" he asked. "You…you stopped me. I would've…," he trailed off, that lost look returning to his eyes.

"You have to want to do the things I say…on some level. I can't compel a cold blooded killer not to kill. Usually I can't compel non mortals to do anything," Anders mentioned, looking him up and down intently. The man nibbled at his lip, an unsure expression flitting across his face. He dropped his gaze again, fiddling with his pant fly, suddenly embarrassed to find them still loose and open.

"Thank you," he muttered, looking incredibly defeated as he sat slumped atop the tile. For the first time maybe ever, Anders was overcome with the urge to care. A part of him wanted to stay at his side, to reassure him until he believed it.

"My name's Anders," he offered, hoping to put a name to the mysterious being's face.

"Mitchell," he answered quietly. Anders stared, the name running through his mind a thousand times. He could imagine whispering that name, shouting it, saying it softly as he pushed him down and felt those long legs wrap around his body. Maybe even letting it slip out as he begged for more. He swallowed nervously, fighting against the unfamiliar feelings churning in his gut. He was getting attached. That was never a good idea. He briefly considered walking away, but it felt so wrong. Before he knew it Anders had slid his arm around Mitchell's shoulders and tugged him close, encouraging him to rest his head in the crook of his neck.

"Well, Mitchell. What do you say you come back to my place, we get you cleaned up, we have a drink or ten, then pass out. Seems like you really are having a rough night," Anders suggested. Mitchell chuckled lowly and leaned against him even more.

"A rough century," he mumbled under his breath. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the muted club music thumping away in the background. Anders stroked Mitchell's hair, doing his best to will away the headache he had nearly forgotten about. It hadn't been the relaxing night he'd hoped for. He hadn't had the casual no strings attached sex he meant to. Instead he got feelings, a boatload of physical pain, and an immortal creature leaning against him for comfort. His gaze slid to the side, taking in Mitchell's ethereal yet rugged features. He supposed it could have been worse.

"I could…use the company," Mitchell spoke eventually, tilting his chin up so Anders could look him in the eyes. They were a little less teary, a little less puffy around the edges, though they still spoke of anguish and suffering that could only be imagined. Who knew what might have happened if they hadn't crossed paths that night.

It was probably a stupid thing to let a vampire get so close, and right after said vampire had nearly had a meltdown and sunk his fangs full on into another person's neck. But if he got himself killed, at least the sex was good.

Damn was it ever good.