Prompt: That tumblr post about the vampire coming across a person with anemia and becoming very protective of them. Anemic Ivan just wants to be left alone, but a certain golden-haired, blue-eyed (usually) vampire has other ideas. (RusAme)
Warnings: Violence, language, a hint at depression, Google-Translate Russian
Ivan was the one who knocked.
The 6'4 Russian man had never been one to jump at shadows. If anything, his height and odd appearance had made him more often the subject of caution than the bearer.
However walking home in the dark that particular early morning had him on edge. The orange light of the street lamps only added to how alien the streets of the new city were to him. Ivan sighed into the humid summer air, adjusting his grip on the bags he was carrying from the corner store.
At least that is one nice thing about America. They favor convenience here.
It was about all he could say for the city though. Back home in Russia he'd grown up in a more rural area. He wasn't used to loud, crowded places. Even so, he glanced over his shoulder as he walked, wishing to hear a cat yowl or a siren in the distance.
It was too quiet.
Ivan started at the loud clank of metal hitting concrete. One of his bags was suddenly much lighter.
"Der'mo," Ivan growled, looking down to see several of his food cans on the ground now, one of them rolling away. He bent down to pick them up, cursing himself for being so jumpy.
There is no good reason to be—
"Hey there!"
Ivan started again, looking up to see a young man smiling brightly down at him. He was shorter than Ivan but still tall, wearing blue jeans and what looked like a vintage bomber jacket over a white tee-shirt.
Ivan froze for a moment, mystified at the sudden appearance. He hadn't seen anyone approach. And there was something odd about the kid. Ivan stared stupidly, trying to figure why the boy seemed so… out of place. Maybe it was those impossibly blue eyes. They gleamed brightly in the dim orange light.
The young man held out the can of soup that had rolled away. "Looks like your food was trying to get away! Can't have that, can we?"
Ivan slowly stood, accepting the can back. "Spasi—… ah, thank you."
The young man tilted his head, his grin turning curious. "Say, that's an interesting accent you got there. Where ya from, big guy?"
Ivan felt a slight heat reach his cheeks. He wasn't one to be bashful, but living in a new place was hard enough without being obviously foreign. He hated when it showed.
"Russia," Ivan admitted.
"Oh cool!" The young man's face lit up. "Shoulda' known. Man, I haven't been to Russia in a while. It still as cold as balls there?" He gave a disarmingly warm smile.
"Da," Ivan replied despite himself. Something about the strange young man was amusing.
The boy ran a hand through his bangs, "Cool! I love meeting new people, especially people from not-here. They have the coolest stories!"
Ivan felt his face heat again, though maybe not for the same reason. He smiled a bit tightly. "Then maybe you are meeting wrong person. I am not having anything interesting to tell."
"Nah, that's what they all say. No one realizes how interesting they are, I think, until they share stories with someone else. So I always ask!"
Ivan regarded the young man a long moment. An odd person yet something about him just kind of… drew him in. He found himself walking down the street alongside the kid.
"I'm headed for Beech Street," the young adult announced. "You live this way too?"
"Oak Street," Ivan admitted.
"Cool! You live with your family?"
Ivan felt his amusement fade. The personal question turned his mood immediately. "Nyet," he answered a touch darkly.
"I used to live with my brother," the boy continued obliviously. "He was awesome. Made the best pancakes ever!" He sighed a bit sadly. "I miss him."
Ivan found himself at a loss. He didn't want to pry into the young man's past. Especially since he himself was not one for sharing histories. He struggled to come up with a change of topic.
"Um, that is… an interesting jacket," Ivan stumbled.
"Huh? Oh, thanks!" The older teenager grinned. "Yeah, I like it a lot. Pretty badass, right?"
Ivan let a small smile escape him. "Where did you get it?"
The boy's smile faded slightly. "Earned it," he said, still smiling but without the enthusiasm Ivan might have expected.
The boy slowed to a stop, rubbing the back of his neck and looking sheepish. He let out a heavy sigh. "Look, you seem like a really cool dude, but I… God, I hate this." The boy's good mood fell drastically.
The sudden change made Ivan's jumpiness return.
The young man glanced up at Ivan out of the corner of his eye, fixing him with intense blue. Ivan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
The street was too quiet.
The young man looked down at the sidewalk, chuckling to himself with no happiness. "I'm really sorry about this. Just…"
Ivan took a small step back.
There was a rush of air in Ivan's ears. His vision blurred, and his back slammed into something, sending a shock through him. The street light was gone, and he found himself swallowed by a dark alley. The young man pressed against him, one hand crushing Ivan's shoulder back into the brick wall and the other clamped over Ivan's mouth.
"…try not to move much. It'll hurt less."
Ivan froze. Fear locked his joints as the impossibly strong boy removed his hand from Ivan's mouth and carefully began pulling away at Ivan's scarf. The scarf that hid his…
The young man hesitated, concern flickering across his face.
"…Dude, what happened to your neck?!"
A cool breeze brushed the sensitive scarred skin and snapped Ivan back to reality.
He jerked away, driving all his strength into a shove that hurled the boy into the opposite alley wall. Ivan launched himself away from the brick and started sprinting back towards the alley mouth; he could see a street lamp, his spilled grocery bags underneath. His heart pounded in his ears as he drove himself forward as hard as he could.
He didn't even get close.
Something smashed into him from behind, sending him sprawling. He slammed into the dirty asphalt, something pinning him down between his shoulder blades. One of his arms were wrenched behind him and he growled in pain and frustration.
"That was actually pretty sweet!" he young man on his back said much too happily. "Don't think anyone's ever thrown me like that before. You work out?"
"Poluchit' yebut ot menya!" Ivan snarled as best he could with a face full of concrete.
"Yeah, ok, you're pissed, I get it. I don't like this either. And hey, I'll leave your neck alone; I can just use your arm."
Through his anger, a pang of fear cut through Ivan. He was helpless. Useless. Unable to stop him... Unable to help even himself.
Ivan swore, hot tears stinging his eyes. He was useless.
"Hey, hey," the young creature cut in, sensing his distress, "Don't worry, I won't kill ya. This'll all be a hazy dream in the morning."
Ivan tried to turn his head, barely managing to look over his shoulder…
Just in time to see wicked fangs extending from the roof of the young boy's mouth, glinting in the dim light.
Ivan's heart shuddered to a stop.
The large Russian man cried out in pain as something pierced into his wrist and forearm. He tried to struggle away but the iron grip held him fast. He gasped for breath, his heart picking up at double time. Tears ran down his face.
This is actually happening!
A pathetic sob escaped Ivan. He pressed himself into the ground, willing it to swallow him.
He barely noticed when the creature on top of him became very still. Suddenly the piercing pain in his arm disappeared, leaving only a numb tingling.
"Dude, are you sick?"
Ivan hesitated a long moment, blinking away tears in surprise.
The pressure left his back and the vampire kneeled down beside him, holding his shoulder gently.
"…Cuz you blood tastes weird. Like, it's watered down or something."
Ivan's fogged mind swirled a moment. Then slowly a realization crept up on him. He snorted, suddenly realizing what was happening. It was funny. No, hilarious.
Rather child-like giggles escaped the large man as the irony of the situation got the better of him.
The vampire seemed to grow a little uneasy. "Um… you ok man?"
Ivan sat himself up a bit on his good arm, unable to keep his dry smile at bay. "Nyet. I am having Anemiya."
The vampire's now slightly off-blue eyes grew wide. "Wait, you're anemic!? Dude, why the hell didn't you say something!?"
"Oh, I am sorry, I was busy being crushed into a wall and then the ground," Ivan growled, his emotions quickly morphing into anger. His light head dampened the feeling a bit, though.
"Still you should've… Damn, dude, I could have killed you!"
Ivan glared at the strikingly troubled expression on the young man's face. Particularly the touch of red at the corner of the boy's mouth. Of all the places to find sympathy…
Darkly amused, Ivan let another giggle slip. "I am being very sorry to have worried you so."
The young man huffed in response, his expression remarkably close to a parent rebuking their child. "Alright, well…" He suddenly grabbed up Ivan's injured arm. Ivan froze as he felt a cool tongue run up his arm, catching the blood that had been steadily escaping the punctures.
"Chto?! Otpustit'—!" Ivan tried to pull away but the grip wouldn't yield.
The tongue lingered a moment on the new wounds, the young vampire pulling away with a sight grimace.
Ivan's lips curled back to hiss a curse, but the words caught in his throat. He watched in wonder as his skin slowly drew together, pink and angry, but closed. Slightly stunned, he felt himself being raised to his feet.
"Let's get you home, the venom will kick in soon. Where do you live?"
Ivan's mind was swimming. "V-venom?" He manage to spit out. He felt himself moving forward.
"Look dude, I really hate poking around in other people's heads. Just give me an address."
Ivan's eves wouldn't focus anymore. He felt his resistance sap away with his energy. It almost felt… pleasant.
"2437 Oak Street," he slurred, his accent coming through thicker than ever. "Apart-… 41."
Ivan felt like he was floating. He was pretty sure his feet weren't on the ground anymore. Everything faded away to an agreeable haze, only a few words echoing after him.
"Don't worry, big guy. I got ya."
Ivan had only been hungover one other time in his life, and he honestly couldn't remember it being this bad.
The Russian blinked slowly, squinting at the light filtering through his bedroom window. Dust motes floated above and he watched them, unable to move since his body had been replaced with lead.
Shadowy memories danced behind his eyes. He remembered that… something had happened. But all that emerged from the smog of motion and dim light was…
Blue. Impossibly blue eyes.
Ivan latched onto that one shard of a memory, unwilling to let it go. He wasn't sure why.
With a growl the large man forced himself out of bed. He shuffled over to the bathroom, splashing water in his face and trying to get the chalk taste out of his mouth. He looked up in the mirror, skin looking sallow and sick in the light. His family had always been particularly pale, it suiting his lovely sisters but looking downright deathly on him.
The brief thought of his sisters sent another stab of pain through him, though of a different sort. He pushed them from his mind.
Ivan shambled back through his room, glancing at the clock. It was already afternoon. He'd need to leave for work in a few hours. He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy silver hair while he debated calling in sick. But no, it was a new job and he couldn't risk losing it. He cursed under his breath and headed for his kitchenette.
His feet hit the tile as his eyes came to rest on the kitchen table; particularly the grocery bags sitting innocently on it. He stared a long moment trying to remember… That's right, he'd gone for groceries last night, and…
Everything came back in one horrible rush. Ivan staggered, grabbing the wall for support.
He'd…he'd been attacked. Attacked by…
Ivan gasped, his eyes jumping to his forearm. He brought it close to his face, scrutinizing it for any marks but found nothing. His eyes narrowed, an uncomfortable churning in his stomach.
I remember it… I couldn't have imagined that... right?
Ivan approached the table like it might be a feral creature. He scanned over the contents of the bags. Everything seemed to be present. It was exactly what he had purchased last night, with one exception.
Sitting among the plastic bags was a very large bottle of iron supplements.
Der'mo – shit
Spasibo – thank you
Nyet – no
Poluchit' yebut ot menya – Get the fuck off me
Chto?! Otpustit'… – What?! Let go…