Disclaimer: I don't own Netflix's "Van Helsing" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Van Helsing" and fell in love with Flesh (Phil). This fic is set in early season one, if their time at the hospital had been extended a few days before it was invaded for the last time and the group was forced to leave. Inspired by the Doctor Sholomenko's comment to Flesh in 2x01 about how he was 'one of Vanessa's' and how 'he could tell.' There seems to be a strong connection between Vanessa and the people she turns – like the scream in early season two. I found it interesting that Flesh seemed to react far more strongly than the Doc or Julius for example. I feel like because Flesh bit Vanessa, rather than the other way around, he might have a much stronger bond with her.

Warnings: vampires, blood drinking, past trauma, drama, angst, sexual content, language, oral sex, first time, hurt/comfort, shower sex.

(Our) coat of arms

The shower was already running when she opened the door and slipped inside. Her eyes flicked to the clothes on the bench automatically, even though she had a pretty good idea who was hidden in the steam. Getting a rough outline of a slim build, a tight ass and legs which looked like they had their fair share of runner's definition.

Honestly, it was weird thinking about it like that. Like before all this Flesh had been the sort of person who'd gone running every morning. The five am early riser she'd always made fun of, despite privately being jealous of their commitment. The only reason she'd ever been up at five am was because she hadn't gone to bed yet.

It was safe to say she wasn't a morning person.

Not by a long shot.

He half turned, wiping his eyes and squinting like he couldn't quite see her. Spiking the front of his hair with his hands before he stiffened and almost- well- concaved away from her. Stomach sucking in so that the hollow below his sternum was momentarily stark. Highlighting the count of his ribs. Proof enough that he was fit just about everywhere.

"Oh- Jesus- Sorry. I didn't know you were- I'll just-"

She watched, privately fascinated, as he came to the realization he would have to walk towards her to grab his towel and make his escape. Ducking his head under the spray as the soap-suds flirted with his toes. Showing off dark-skin bruises and compress-cuts where his boots had cut into his skin clambering up the garbage chute.

"Don't bother," she told him, voice flat but not devoid of deprecating humor as he kept his front angled away from her. Getting flashbacks to that moment in the shower with Axel. How she'd felt cornered and vulnerable. Realizing in a slow burning rush of something that could easily be shame that that wasn't what she wanted from him. Not now. Maybe not ever. "Axel says we share showers until it rains. Trust me, I don't like it either. But after being out there, I need it."

She paused for a beat, watching the stiff line of his back only hunch up worse before she caved slightly. Softening it.

"I won't peek if you don't."

He gargled a half-laugh, eventually jutting his chin and giving her a shallow nod before he turned back towards the wall. Fiddling with the soap as she pulled her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her jeans.

The terrible part was she had no intention of keeping her side of the bargain.

She watched as rivulets of watered-down soap trickled down his back. Impulsively deciding he was an appealing sort of mess despite not being her type. With slim definition and delineated sinews in place of the obvious, and yeah- sometimes over-done muscle mass in the guys she usually dated.

But there was something about him that made her keep looking. A connection. Something she was trying to make sense of. Something she'd been trying to tease out whenever they'd been in the same room and the tickle in the back of her mind got too obvious to ignore.

Her gaze lingered on his ass when he bent down to pump out a quarter-sized dollop of shampoo. Ignoring the distinctly flowery scent in favor of working up a quick lather, tipping his head back into the spray with a soft, indistinct sound.

Her eyebrows rose.

Not a bad caboose for a skinny guy.

There was something private and almost sensual in the way his lips parted. Eyes closed as the water freckled down his face. Feeling lecherous for staring, but honestly kind of reveling in it as she walked into the spray. Feeling the humid-wetness cling like a glove as she waited for him to inch to the side and make room for her under the shower-head.

It was probably the first normal thought she'd had since she'd woken up.

She smiled to herself as their shoulders brushed, wondering what Susan would say to all that. How it might even feel like old times, rating the guys coming and going from their building on her deck with a bottle of wine neither of them could really afford.

Her smile faded slightly.

Well, maybe not Susan.

She seemed almost scared of him.

She'd have to ask her about that later.

He turned, head ducking to the side as she leaned close enough to wet her hair. The hair on her arms prickling as wet skin brushed again wet skin. Caught between feeling suffocated and greedy all at once. Wanting to glut herself in the knowledge there was no space between them. That if she moved just so- he'd touch her-

Her pulse hiccupped. Feeling it in her chest as something building in the pit of her belly warmed. Enjoying the echoes as they rippled across her skin from where his forearm had brushed the underside of her breast.

God, when had she ever been this easy?

"Sorry," he rasped. Because of course he knew. The soft lush of a breast was pretty much impossible to mistake for anything else. She knew that first hand.

She shook her head.

"Can you hand me the soap?" she asked instead, pushing her hair off her forehead as it gradually soaked through.

He inhaled sharply, like he knew. Hesitating with the bar slippery in his hands. Forgetting to turn away long enough that she caught a glimpse of his cock firming against his thigh.

Oh.

She gathered her hair and curled it over her shoulder before looking back at him. Showing him the barest curve of her breast and the long line of her back. Modest only in the barest understanding of the term as the rivulets sluiced towards the drain. Her nipples were piqued, equal to the water pearling thick from her lashes as she tipped her chin into the spray. Licking her lips with slow intent as his eyes followed her.

"Do you mind?"

She hated that it came out so breathy.

So desperate.

But he just looked at her. Dark eyes and low-slung lids staring back through the steam like they were trying to see right through her. Like flesh and blood was just another barrier that had to be conquered before you could free the truth. Only, she'd never been that hard to read. Especially when it came to this kind of stuff. She'd always been pretty damn transparent when it came to getting what she wanted. And she doubted he'd be the exception.

"Tell me when to stop," he said hoarsely. Already sounding a little bit wrecked as he took a step closer. Then another. Feeling his heat like a ghost about to sink between the chinks of her spine as she shivered.

Because there was something possible rising in the air now. Something that followed the same careful path as his hands. Soaping down the line of her belly, lingering on the faint c-section scar with careful reverence before skirting her navel and finding the divots of her hips. Letting her lean into him as he bracketed her from behind. Lips pressing gently - like an unsure kiss - against her neck before they dragged down the line of her shoulder.

Somewhere outside, a door slammed.

Highlighting how easy it would be for someone to walk in on them.

But neither of them made any move to pull or way.

He was hard. Cock nudging against her ass as she sighed into the steam. Letting him take the brunt of her weight as her dipped her head back to look at him. Wanting to make sure they were on the same page as she thumbed a trickle of water away before it could reach his eyes. Finding something in his expression that screamed silently. Something that overrode his natural urge to turn away and instead stared back at her with a quiet, animal sort of hunger.

He was hard, but it wasn't her he wanted.

Not really.

He just wanted.

Needed.

Needed to feel.

Needed to let go.

Needed to connect.

And the truth was, it had been a long time since a man had been that honest with her.

She wanted to hate him, to find some fault that would have weight knowing what he'd done. Who he used to be. Even climbing back up that chute, human and rank and looking at her through the blood like she was some sort of terrible savior had complicated things for her. But she couldn't. She couldn't hate him no matter how hard she tried. Not really.

She'd never been the best at making decisions, too liable to jump and free fall than look before she leapt. But reading people? Well, she'd always been pretty damn good at that.

And the truth was, he wasn't pinging warning signs. He never had. Not even when he'd looked at her with those dull, flat-lining eyes and told her what he'd done to his children. Not once making the one excuse he was actually entitled to make. That it hadn't been him. That he'd been changed without his consent. Infected.

It had been Helen who'd really driven that home for her. It hadn't been her. That woman hissing at her in the ring? Spitting out terrible things about her - about Dylan? That wasn't Helen. It'd just been something dark wearing her face. Something that wanted to wound and cause pain when she couldn't reach her with her teeth.

Since the moment Flesh had crawled his way up the chute, he'd been quiet. Withdrawn. Rarely calling attention to himself for much of anything save for confronting the vampires outside the hospital and driving them off before they could break in. But at the same time, he was almost constantly present. Working in the background. Watching. Doing the other's chores. No one said anything about the fact they were letting him, but she noticed. He might not be her type, but he bled quiet strength and emotion like a sieve. And in spite of everything, he felt safe somehow. She knew how it sounded, but it was the truth.

More than anything, it was the chess game he played with Sam that gave him away.

He saw the board three moves ahead and adjusted his actions accordingly. Downplaying his attacks into what looked like muted surrender right up until he was a move away from capturing Sam's king and watching him realize it in real time.

The soap slipped out of his hand when she turned to face him. Showing herself boldly as his eyes flicked down without filter. Taking her in as she did the same. Only she was brave enough to trail her hand down his chest and the flat of his belly. Smiling as the muscles twitched under her fingers. Counting the spaces between his ribs until his hand settled on the hitch of her hip. Cock warm and wet against the crux of her sex - firming against her like a reminder.

Enough pussy-footing around, already!

He choked on an endearing, shocked little grunt when she wrapped her hand around his cock. Getting a handle on the size of him and squeezing gently. Enough to pull another one out of him before she started to move her hand.

Men tended to get docile when you gripped them like that. Like want and need got confused somewhere in the hind brain. And he was no exception. He was a litmus test of predictability. The only difference was, he was starving for it.

The lights flickered.

Reminding them they were on borrowed time in more ways than one.

That the generator wasn't going to last much longer.

No matter how many times Axel frankensteined something together.

She shook her head.

She didn't want to think about that.

Not now.

"Hey," she murmured, soothing him with a low voice she could feel rumbling in the back of her throat. Petting down his chest as he shuddered, feeling him almost vibrating under her hand. "I've got you, okay?"

But it wasn't until he nodded, ducking his head before he got bold enough to reach up and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear that she tugged him over to the bench by the door. Clicking the lock as she sprawled him across the wood. Aware he was working with her, letting her, watching her, as she clambered onto his lap and encouraged his hands to settle on her hips.

"Is this okay?"

It came out without her being aware it was something she meant to say. One hand curling around his neck as his spine straightened, flattening against the wall. A precursor to where they both knew this was heading. The skin on her thigh pinching against his as her foot kicked out, squeaking across the wet tiles. Shifting so that he was exactly where she wanted him and-

He nodded.

"Please..."

That was all she needed.

His head tipped back when she took him in, sighing like-

Oh. Damn.

She tossed her head back, feeling all three of the years she'd slept through as her insides fluttered. Hitching like her body was a river-bed coming back to life with the spring rains. Feeling him in the most intimate way as she slowly cleaved- muscle-memory slow but determined as he groaned at her tightness. The points of his nails starting to dig in as he urged her up and down. Guiding her even as she took control of the rhythm.

She huffed a laugh when he stuttered out a curse. Pressing her forehead against his as things turned heated - even awkward. With the new closeness causing the swell of her breasts to bump against his face. But he didn't lean away, the angle was too good and the moment was too real. Imperfect. Water pearling over her nipples like an invitation as he dragged stubbly cheeks down her skin. Breathing hotly as her breasts crushed – lush and heavy – against his chest.

She felt something in her break, or maybe just give way when he hiked her up and caught her nipple between his teeth. Singing out a high, surprised note when his hand squirmed between them. Finding her clit like he had fucking magnets in his fingers and pinching her roughly. Rubbing her with a confidence that made her throat hitch and tighten around him. Her hair slapped wetly across his shoulders as the tempo flared faster. Baring her teeth as the blunt of his own dragged briefly across her collarbone. Hips rocking up to meet her with insistent, hungry little strokes.

Son of a bitch, he was full of surprises.

She came like that. Feeling it coming like a god damned freight train she let hit her dead on. Wondering briefly if he could feel it before every muscle pulled taut. Pleasure buzzing through her as he muffled her cry with the flat of his palm. Forcing her to taste the mineral-salt of his skin as a rash of sweat turned the air cold.

Fuck. Yes.

She wasn't used to losing, but she lost to gravity sometime after leaning back - lax and satisfied - grinding herself slowly on his cock as he grabbed her before she could smack her head on the tiles.

They fell backwards together, his hand cushioning the back of her head so that it rebounded against his palm instead of the floor. Hissing at the chilled tiles as he grunted, one knee cracking loudly at the impact in a way she knew had to have hurt.

But before she could react he was pushing back inside her. Hips snapping like in falling she'd let something violent loose. Because this time it was clear - his way, his rules - chasing his own pleasure as the angle helped him sink deep. Moans echoing in the humidity.

Still, she wasn't the kind of girl that took the passenger seat easily. She'd always liked to fight for it. To force her partner to either pin her down or let her have her way. Needing the conflict just like she did outside of the bedroom sometimes. And apparently he knew it. Because before she could firm up on her elbows and flip them, his hand was back. Stroking the downy hairs that crowned her sex before pressing down on her nub almost painfully - overstimulated from her peak.

Just like chess, he had a strategy.

He didn't bother trying to fight her.

He just distracted her.

She wanted to hate that, but all she could really muster was a heated sort of awe. Especially when he ignored the high, pitiful sound she let of and instead doubled down. Forcing her to climb higher than she ever had before. All her dials cranked to max as a nervous little voice in the back of her mind asked a question she really didn't want to contemplate ever. Like, had anyone ever given a damn about her pleasure like this? And- oh-

Holy fuck.

She was going to-

Her ankles locked behind him. Discovering something beautiful in the way his hips stuttered. Slowly losing control as her grip forced his thrusts to grind deeper. Feeling him so deep that when she tightened around him for the last time she swore she actually felt it when he buried his head in her neck and came with a vicious tremor. Watching him – eyes tightly closed and face half-shadowed in the flickering lights – as the sound of another woman's name left his lips like a final, exorcising sort of goodbye.

She didn't say anything when the salt of silent tears dappled across her cheek as they came down.

She just pretended it was water.

For both their sakes.

She was halfway to the door, clothes barely on and hair curling around her shoulders when something stopped her.

"It was Julius, wasn't it?" she asked, something second-hand clicking into place as the part of her that had woken up the moment he'd bit her unfurled slowly in recognition. "The vampire who turned you?"

His head jerked up, surprised. Naked and unsteady on his feet. Maybe even a bit shell-shocked as he looked over at her so quickly she heard a bone in his neck crack at the suddenness.

He didn't say anything. He just looked at her. Expression so loaded she could practically cock it and pull the trigger.

"You had his scent," she said slowly, when the silence got too heavy. "I recognized it from when he took me. He was all over you when you bit me. You were important to him…weren't you?"

The clock behind him didn't move. Stuck at 2:36pm. The lack of sound only highlighting the way he shook his head. Lips twisting as his toes curled into the grout. Bleaching themselves a strained bloodless white. Struggling with something painfully real before he finally swallowed hard and answered.

"And now?" he rasped, fists clenched at his sides. "What do I smell like now?"

She took the question as an invitation to cross back to him. Scenting down the wet of his neck as water plink-plink-plinked down the drain. Aware on some level that none of this was normal. That this wasn't her. It wasn't even him. It was a throwback. Something that connected back to an ancient past that hadn't been relevant until now. Until the moment she'd woken up, neck throbbing. Until the day he'd been bitten. Until three years ago when the eruption darkened the sky and everything changed.

"Mine," she whispered. Awed and maybe a little bit scared as he bared it for her instinctively. Every part of him proving he was exactly that- hers as his lips parted and-

She kissed him impulsively.

Soft lips to rough.

Before freezing and slowly pulling away.

Aware that every part of him had gone rigid in shock.

For a split second she thought he was going to hit her or maybe push her away. But instead, after a long breathless pause, the sudden stiffness bled out of him as quickly as it'd formed. Mouth opening and closing a few times like he was about to say something, but couldn't quite get it out.

"Sorry. Sorry," she breathed. Meaning it as his hand came up to touch his lips. Like he'd forgotten what it felt like or couldn't believe it had happened at all.

She wouldn't blame him either way.

It had been an unspoken line they'd been careful not to cross until now.

And then she'd gone and done what she did best, fuck everything up, apparently.

Or maybe not.

"No," he whispered, fingers digging in like claws before releasing her again. Shaking his head and looking up at her like for a fraction of a second he could actually see it. Like the confusing cord that connected them was something he could grasp and keep close. "No, I feel it too...I-I am yours."

She couldn't deny a part of her liked the sound of that.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. This story is now complete.