Hi everyone; this is my first story that I've uploaded for you to feast on, and more importantly a Reanimator one. I'm a huge fan of slash (pretty much all I read fanfiction-wise) and as soon as I read H.P. Lovecraft's 'Herbert West - Reanimator' I knew there'd be something about Herbert and the unnamed narrator online. Then I found the fics, found the film on YouTube, fell in love with Jeffrey Combs...etc. So I hope you enjoy it; I'm open to comments, feedback, &c.

DISCLAIMER: Hee, feels good to write a disclaimer. I bet it gets boring quickly though :) All characters belong to H.P. Lovecraft, Stuart Gordon, Brian Yuzna, and the people who brought them to life; Jeffrey Combs, and Bruce Abbott. Enjoy!

Reanimator:

Oh, the Irony!

Usually Herbert West would spend his time in the basement of his and Dan Cain's small, rented suburban house; sometimes he would stay behind in the roomy morgue of the Miskatonic University where he could test his reagent more thoroughly, and on once-living (and, almost 100% of the time, briefly again-living when he was done with them) human beings.

Dan Cain had never seen him eat, or drink. He'd never even known of him going to sleep. All he knew was that Herbert West was a manic, strange mad scientist kind of character who didn't have time to socialise, relax, or waste a single moment on 'redundant activities'.

With the exception, of course, of that Saturday night.

Herbert had finally arrived home; he hung his coat up on the peg and locked the door firmly. Dan was waiting for him on the sofa, reading 'The Amityville Horror', wondering if it could really be based on true events. He threw the book down to his side when the door opened and he watched Herbert carefully as he crossed the room and picked up a small leather diary.

"The cemetery has another funeral planned for tonight…" he murmured, mostly to himself, running a hand through his thick hair. "So if we were to get there for little after midnight, it should be amply empty…and the corpse, of course, would still be fresh…"

Dan was still amazed by everything he did. There was something about him that was so encapsulating, so…inhumane. He was a short man; and slender, with very pale skin and dark brown hair that occasionally dropped down near his right eye. They were cold, calculative, and a pallid blue; and Dan had never seen Herbert without his glasses. It didn't matter; he was exceedingly handsome with them on. His lips were full, almost chalky and pastel, and right now they were pursed in silent meditation. Dan sighed – did he ever stop, even for a second?

He smiled to himself. That's what tonight was about. For the first time in his life, Herbert West would relax. No matter what it might take.

"What is it?" Herbert asked curiously, having noticed Dan's quiet grin. Dan stood up, considerably taller than his friend and with warm brown eyes. His own hair was dark, uncomplicated, and he made his way over to where Herbert stood near the TV. The diary had, once more, resumed its place beside it.

"I have a surprise for you," he announced, trying to contain his glee. Herbert looked at with half of his face coloured with annoyance and the other half visibly anxious. It would always follow the same unnerving pattern; Dan would 'surprise' him, and he would later stand and think of things that would normally be worlds away from his scientific brain. And he wouldn't just think them…he'd want them, almost need them after so many years of being like ice, unloved and never loving in return…

"Dan…it's hard enough testing in the morgue," he sighed, running a hand through his thick hair, trying to dispel any pointless thoughts. "And unless someone suddenly dies of a heart attack, the corpse being buried tonight might be the last chance we get for another month. That's a month, Dan!" he exclaimed, almost frantic.

"Herbert," Dan said, soothingly, crossing the carpet and resting both hands on the smaller man's shoulders. Herbert tensed up, staring first at the floor and then up at Dan. Whenever he touched him, he always felt—alive. Like his nervous system was on fire. Not just his atoms, but in the nucleus that constituted most of its weight; the neutrons, quarks, gluons…every miniscule particle. He didn't like it, nor did he favour their proximity – at least, that's what he told himself. That's what he'd kept telling himself for just under half a year.

"I need to go, Dan…" he said, trying not to sound unusual. He rolled his eyes at his own attempts, knowing that a second never passed when he didn't sound unusual.

"Please, Herbert?" Dan begged, his eyes pleading. "This one night. Please. Then I'll help you get all the corpses you want. Hell, I'll kill one myself if it'll make you happy. Just…please. Give me this one night. You never rest…"

"I have to work," Herbert muttered, looking past Dan's shoulders. Dan shook him lightly, causing Herbert to grasp onto his firm shoulders reflexively. He looked up at him, not daring to move, trying to mentally gage how close they were. If any of Dan's friends entered now, which they often did without warning…Herbert laughed internally, though his outside expression was one of shock and mild anger at being man-handled. He knew exactly how compromising a position it was, both of them stood clutching each other, and not in a particularly violent way.

Dan let him go, gently, Herbert inhaling for the first time in at least half a minute. They both regained a little composure and Dan sighed, looking at Herbert imploringly.

"Please?" he asked.

Herbert sighed. For a full second he duelled—his vaulting ambition and his burning desires—but his exact thoughts were inconsequential. Because he always said yes: part of him felt guilty for abandoning his work, even for a minute, but he always said yes.

He shook his head, a symbol of his self-defeat and surrender. Dan's shoulders fell with relief and he smiled. Herbert looked up at him, one corner of his mouth rising.

"Fine," he said, Dan jumping in a way that Herbert found adorable. "Yes."

As it turned out, Dan had cooked a meal. He brought it in, taking only a few minutes to warm it up, Herbert sat awkwardly on the couch reading a thick volume about anatomy. He laughed at a few of his former professor Dr Hans Gruber's ideas about the location of the will in the brain. Some were sound; some were invaluable. And others were purely nonsensical. Dan emerged from the small kitchenette with two plates; on both were vegetables, small potatoes, and a cut of lean meat, beef or steak.

Herbert raised an eyebrow, watching Dan rather than the plates as he sat beside him, looking pleased with his handiwork.

"You have no idea how many times I screwed this up before it went well," Dan laughed, passing one of the plates to Herbert. Herbert thanked him, and began prodding his meat almost nervously. "The secret is to stew the meat the night before." He took a bite, smiling. Herbert couldn't restrain a little smile of his own; he looked so blissful. He, of course, understood the food's relation to the body, but he couldn't understand people who obsessed over it. Food…it was food. He rarely ate anymore. He held with H.G. Wells; the aliens in his novel 'The War of the Worlds' seemed to have a very irreprehensible form of deriving nourishment, and that was through the direct injection of blood into their veins. Bam; it was straight there, saving on the hours and energy it would take a human's digestive system. "That way it's much juicer…tender. Really nice."

"It smells good," Herbert lied. It didn't smell bad…but to him, it all smelt the same. Dan nodded to Herbert's plate.

"Are you going to eat something?" he queried. Herbert looked down at his plate dubiously and took up his cutlery. Suddenly, the thought of eating made him sick, and he thought of his own 'blood', the glowing substance waiting in the basement below and what was left in his bedroom…

Dan took a look at his roommate uncertainly. He sighed, placing his knife and fork down on the small coffee table, Herbert mirroring his actions.

"Is something wrong?" Dan asked, worried about what the answer might be. Herbert smiled, shaking his head. Dan rolled his eyes, but he didn't look angry. "I don't believe you. Is it about your work?"

"Only partly…" Herbert began. Dan jumped up, making a strangled sound. He turned back to Herbert, wringing his hands.

"Damn it, West!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "You're always obsessing over your damn reagent and your damn dead bodies! Why won't you take just a second to sit back and relax? I'm trying to help you! I don't want you to be alone all of the time…"

Herbert swallowed, looking down at the food, feeling a little sick. He hated arguing with Dan. Dan was his only friend, the only person who'd ever believed in him or taken the time to do things for him. At first he'd seen him as a convenience. And then…something changed. He didn't know when, or even what, but something changed drastically, and he couldn't look at him the same again.

Dan's speech had started out almost angry, and then slowly degenerated into desperation. Herbert inhaled deeply and stood up, taking one of Dan's hands and leading him back to the sofa. Dan was a little surprised—he momentarily laughed at the twisted irony—but sat beside his friend compliantly.

"I am grateful," Herbert promised sincerely. Dan watched him carefully, wondering how anyone could look so handsome, and delicate. "I do – I appreciate it all. And even though I do feel bad about dropping my experiments, I feel worse about making you feel…" he didn't know how to finish. He just waved a hand in front of him and shook his head. "Like I do. Like this."

Dan smiled. Hebert's cold hands were still grasping his, almost like he feared letting go. Dan pried them away and held Herbert's hands in his own larger, warmer ones. He looked at Herbert dead-on, his friend feeling a large wave of anticipation wash over him. He knew what was happening; it made him feel human. Was that good?

"Do you promise, just for tonight, to relax?" Dan asked. Herbert nodded; it wasn't a hard question. This time, there had been not even a second of internal duelling. He answered as soon as Dan had finished.

"Yes."

Dan had turned the TV on; nothing particularly interesting, just a light comedy that would fill the air a little and take away some of the tension. Herbert was still sat at his side. For a few minutes Dan was drawn into the plot, the jokes, and he didn't realise that Herbert had picked up his book again and was studying it intently for another few minutes. When he did he growled and clenched his hands. Herbert sighed, turning to him.

"Jesus, I thought you were going to relax!" Dan said, almost shouting. Herbert looked slightly offended.

"This is my idea of relaxing, Dan," he countered, coolly, the intonation in his voice pleasant to listen to but, at that moment for Dan, so aggravatingly frustrating; when you listened, rather, to the words. He snatched the book from him, Herbert briefly watching him with annoyance, flicking through the hundreds of pages and grimacing at some of the subjects; some of the subjects he'd almost been failed in. He shook his head.

"How is this relaxing?" he demanded. Herbert shrugged disaffectedly and stared forward at the TV. Dan scoffed.

"Oh, so now you watch the damn thing," he murmured. He thought about everything he'd ever done for Herbert, all the things he'd offered and promised to do…didn't he care? Had it all been in vain? Had he, all along, been trying to win the affection of a man that had no affectionate feelings in his body? Dan bit his bottom lip sourly. It was beginning to look that way.

Herbert was falling further and further into the depths of his own despair. The thought that he was losing someone like Dan…it was probably worse than any amount of scientific failures, worse than any time he had been ostracized, outcast, mocked. He didn't care about the people who ostracized, outcast, and mocked him.

But he cared about Dan.

Dan was one in a million. He was kind, loving, warm, humorous, intelligent and curious… Herbert thought very seriously for a moment whilst trying to hide his emotions. Was he really willing to throw that away? Something that had been strengthened over months; could he really just let it all fall through his fingers?

"I do care," he said quietly, guessing what Dan was thinking. Dan paused, still, and then watched him as he looked up at him. "I do care about…other things. Things that don't entail corpses and stolen Miskatonic hypodermic needles."

"Like what?" Dan questioned, wondering fervently where this was going to go. Herbert looked alarmed for a second. He hadn't thought Dan would actually ask him. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy; he hated admitting how he felt about things. It felt like he was giving a part of him away, part of his being. But this was Dan. If he could give anything to anyone, it would be his emotions, and it would be to Dan.

"I do…care…about you," Herbert confessed, looking unblinkingly at his crossed hands, his fingers laced together. Dan raised his eyebrows, not believing that he'd just heard those words. He slowly reached for Herbert's cheek, the one farthest from him. Herbert flinched for a second and then fell still, allowing Dan to softly turn his face towards him, relishing the feel of his skin.

"That isn't something to be ashamed of," Dan promised, edging closer. Herbert had never felt like this, never felt so truly and scarily electric, like energy was pulsing through his bloodstream with untameable vivacity. He'd worried about something like this happening; between the two of them. He knew it would have repercussions; his work, mostly. Love—and he knew it was probably love, even though it was the first time he'd ever been in love with someone—was a distraction. It was just a – a distraction! But Dan…Dan…

"Dan," he murmured, breathing heavily, shakily, Dan's thigh pressing against his and his other hand twisting through his hair so that now he held Herbert's face elegantly towards him. He couldn't help realising how perfect Dan looked, how truly marvellous and god-like… He didn't believe in God, of course, but he knew that in so-called heavenly visions…surely he must look something like this. "I've never…"

"I know," Dan said gently, reassuringly, moving even closer. Herbert adjusted his seated position and allowed his hands to curl at the neckline of Dan's shirt, near his throbbing jugular. Dan inhaled deeply, exhaling shakily, caressing one side of Herbert's face and causing him to breathe even more unnaturally in the process. "Can I…?"

Herbert nodded, letting Dan move closer and closer until their noses were millimetres apart. Dan took Herbert's glasses and placed them on the coffee table, taking a moment to appreciate how beautiful he really was. Herbert shifted nervously and Dan kissed his ear, once, Herbert resting his chin on Dan's shoulder and trembling in pleasure. Dan faced him again, his eyes smouldering.

"Was that OK?" he asked. Herbert laughed, almost crying. Every emotion he'd suppressed for the last half-year…everything was bubbling to the surface and for once, he didn't mind. He wanted Dan to see everything.

"That was amazing," he whispered, his voice scarcely audible. Dan looked at his lips—those chalky, pastel lips—and Herbert regarded his own set, perfect and proportionate.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," Dan admitted, brushing his lips across Herbert's. Herbert moaned quietly, moving his hands so they gently clutched both sides of Dan's head.

"I can tell," Herbert breathed, returning the favour, delicately grazing Dan's right ear with his teeth and then trailing them back to his jaw, though never kissing his lips. Dan arched his back.

"Christ, Herbert," he all but whimpered, Herbert taking the opportunity to kiss Dan's neck, sometimes making small circles with his tongue. He couldn't believe how fantastic it felt, to be so close to someone. He pulled himself closer, becoming more and more passionate, realising that he was a fool to have postponed this for even a minute. Everything they could have done in near half a year!

Dan couldn't believe it was happening. Around six months ago, this man had intrigued him and fascinated him. A few months ago, he began to realise that he was attracted to him, to everything about him. Now, months later, he was here, on their sofa, knowing that this was the first time this had ever happened to either of them. It didn't matter to him that Herbert was a man.

"Sorry…I got carried away—" Herbert began, employing his Hermeneutist skills even now and interpreting Dan's whimper as a bad sign.

He would have finished, but he couldn't. He couldn't because Dan's tongue was in his mouth; he couldn't because Dan's lips were so soft yet fiery around his; he couldn't because their bodies were intertwined together and he'd never felt so brilliant before. Even if he could have…he still couldn't.

For a few minutes they kissed, sometimes moving their hands but never retiring their lips. Dan was trying to pull Herbert's tie away, not really sure what he would do when it was off…he just wanted to get rid of the damn thing and unbutton the damn shirt. Herbert was likewise thirsty to know what Dan had been keeping from him, trying to unbutton his own shirt.

"I love you," Dan breathed, kissing Herbert's lips, his neck, his cheeks, anything he could reach.

"I love you," Herbert returned, at intervals between kisses, returning his lips to Dan's as quickly as he could, wondering if they could do this forever.

Finally Herbert fell backwards, his head propped up against the sofa's arm, Dan running his hands greedily through his slightly damp hair. Dan positioned himself lightly atop the smaller, slender man, occasionally stopping, just to look at him.

He moved his hands down and traced a line along the inside of Herbert's thigh, moving higher until he briefly flicked his hands over his groin. Herbert moaned, arching his back and pressing Dan closer to him.

"You have no idea how much I want to fuck you," Dan murmured, barely breathing, Herbert kissing him again, unable to stop.

Until the door opened.

Both men jumped up from the sofa, Herbert almost falling over until Dan blithely caught his hands. They quickly stood straight, trying to regain their composure. A large party of people had partially flooded into the room, and now each face was frozen in shock, everyone staring at the two. The Dean Alan Halsey was there, with the neurologist Dr Carl Hill glaring maliciously at Herbert, smirking. Alan's daughter Meg, and a good friend of Dan's, was staring at him with disbelief, and about ten other members of the staff—young and old—had stumbled through the door with banners and cakes. Now they all stood silent, unmoving.

"Uh…congratulations for the scholarship, Dan," Dean Halsey said, holding out a certificate unsurely. "Did we…catch you at a bad time…" he looked at Herbert for a nanosecond, the smaller man trying to avoid eye contact at all cost, his cheeks a delicate shade of scarlet. "We can come back…"

Dan shook his head, thanking him awkwardly, taking the certificate and nodding at the congregation. Dr Hill scoffed loudly, mostly at Herbert.

"Did we interrupt anything?" he snickered.

Herbert turned to Dan, slightly hurt, his brow furrowed like a nicked plane of marble. Dan was thinking several things at once; how insanely jealous Herbert is, how cute and unimaginably handsome he looks when he's insanely jealous, how bad this looks, what the others are thinking, shit what just happened, I thought the timing was only this incomprehensibly incredible in films…

"And when were you going to tell me about this, Dan?" he demanded. Everyone was staring, and watching; and then all Dan could think about was how adorable Herbert looked, his lips pursed and his eyes full of frustration, his hands on his hips. He laughed, knowing that this reaction didn't look too good for them. For one it made Herbert look like a moody, petulant child, or wife; but moreover, like he was Dan's moody, petulant wife. Dan smiled, shaking his head.

"I was busy making dinner, darling," he said, jokingly, grinning. He gently pulled Herbert to his chest, knowing that everyone was still stood there watching, but not really bothering about them too much, or what they thought. Herbert buried his head in Dan's chest, inhaling his musky scent, glad to know that he was his, beyond caring about others. He'd never cared before; why start now? Dan rested his chin on the top of Herbert's head, wrapped his arms around him lovingly, and looked at the wide-eyed crowd.

"What's up?" he asked breezily. "Come on in –" mostly to a perplexed Dr Hill "you're not interrupting much."

Herbert sighed, buttoning Dan's shirt deliberately slowly but with medical accuracy. He buttoned his own, secured his tie, and put his glasses on again. He nodded to the crowd and moved past them like they weren't there.

"I don't know about that, Dan," he said, half-suggestively. Dan's eyes twinkled and Herbert gave a cold dismissal to the crowd. They all turned back to Dan in unison, their joint eyebrows raised. Dan shrugged, smiling, and ushered them all inside. He went about making them comfortable and offered drinks, while they absent-mindedly congratulated his scholarship. He socialised amiably, with a few people asking certain questions about his relationship with Herbert, and he spent the next hour talking to these people about the scholarship, and his living arrangements, and his schooling, and his sexual orientation. But all the time he felt guilty; hating the fact that he was here, talking to these people, wasting his time, when he could be down in the basement with his friend, his boyfriend, his own mad-scientist:

Herbert West – Reanimator.