~*~This is a fic I started celebration of being halfway done with finals and kicking its ass, thank you very much! But yeah, lots o' thanks to you guys who left comments wishing me luck. OoG will be updated very soon. Soon as finals are done, promise.
Um, this whole story will be revolving around the "what would happen" situation of Worth coming over to Conrad's apartment. There will be awkward!Conrad, snarky!Worth, and maybe some smut if I could ever be able to write it. TruFact, can't write smut. I try, I really do. Maybe I'll succeed with this.
Musical Muse: My freakin-awesome HiNaBN playlist! "Simple Design" by Breaking Benjamin is like the perfect ConWorth song.
Warnings: Whole-lotta F-bombs, eventual ConWorth, rating may or may not change as a result.
Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own any of the characters.

~*~ House Calls ~*~

Conrad hated when Worth came over.

He hated having that disgusting man infiltrate his personal space, the one place where he used to feel actually comfortable. Well, it used to be his comforting safe home, until a purple bat came in and turned his life upside down. Just when he had gotten used to being a vampire, Veser lodged himself on his couch and, for all intents and purposes, made it his primary living location. After futile attempts to get him to leave, or at least move to the spare room, Conrad accepted the fact that he was to be host to a teenage half-breed for the foreseeable future.

And just when he finally accepted that little annoying fact, Worth started dropping by. Normally Conrad traversed the difficult journey through the city to the fake doctor's office himself, dodging drug dealers and hookers along the way. Worth would usually have his blood ready, sitting on that rickety desk of his, with Worth lounging in his chair with that shit-eating grin of his. He would throw insults at Conrad as the vampire carefully edged around used needles and the occasional cockroach on the floor to retrieve his bags of sustenance. Usually Worth would take a few jabs at his masculinity, and how he was the worst vampire to walk the earth. Conrad couldn't stop himself from rising to the bait, and the minutes stretched out as Conrad tried in vain to find a sore spot in Worth's defensive hide that he could exploit. Worth always had the upper hand in the arguments, and Conrad desperately wanted a way to –not hurt, but to sting his pride a bit. But Worth didn't seem to have any weaknesses, except for Hanna, and Conrad wasn't quite ready to go there. So he always left defeated.

On the way-too frequent occasions that Hanna himself showed up at his door, looking for Veser to help him clean out a pack of pixies –"and you should come too Connie pixies don't like vampires you know" –and he was dragged into the city's underbelly again, he usually swung by Worth's to get some blood, even if it screwed up the usual schedule. Worth always seemed to always have a bag or two on hand. And they were good for backup, in case Conrad couldn't make it to Worth's.

Those breaks from the routine led to the first visit Worth granted him. Conrad had been working straight for several nights, occasionally lasting into late morning, trying to complete several commissions. He needed the money desperately, because he now had to cater to a ravenous teenager who had a penchant for sushi, plus he bought healthy food to try to convince Hanna to take. The zombie always took them, even though Hanna put up a fuss like a two year old. The few paychecks Conrad was able to cash became precious sources of sanity, because he really hated thinking about how he was going to get money any other way. Casimiro and Finas had to get their money somehow…he just didn't want to think about how.

Luckily, Worth hadn't demanded any sort of payment from him yet, but the way his sharp eyes stared at him, while the mouth beneath shot out insult after insult had him wondering if there wouldn't be some sort of compensation required after all. That was something he hated thinking about more than any other concept.

So Conrad had fallen behind in his blood supply, Hanna hadn't stopped by with more blood –or if he had, Conrad had missed him and Veser was hiding the blood –and by the time he finally finished the last commission of the group, it was mid-day, and he was starving. Starving like he had never felt before, not even during those first few days when he couldn't bring himself to take blood even from the baggies. There was actually a distinct probability that he would attack a human if he found one.

Fortunately, Veser was out of the apartment. Conrad thought about calling him to ask him to drop by Worth's, but then remembered that the stupid little kid didn't carry a cell phone, unlike every other person over the age of ten. Veser actually had a legitimate reason for not carrying one ("They're like, really freaking expensive, ya know! And 'sides, I always loose them or they get broke or something." "Like if you jump in the river?" "…that only happened once. You'd jump too if you had a fire rat after you!"). But that didn't help the situation at all.

He thought of calling Hanna and the zombie's apartment, but Hanna had to work too, and the zombie didn't like going out during the day. Conrad really couldn't blame him.

So it looked like he was stuck indoors for the next few hours, as hungry as he had ever been. Awesome. Sounded like a whole load of fun.

'At least,' he thought with a yawn, 'I'll be able to sleep through the worst of it.' It was past ten in the morning –the latest he had stayed awake since his turning. He was exhausted. Conrad stumbled towards his bedroom, trying not to think about the trip would have to take when night fell. He might actually be tempted to take a bite from some diseased drug-filled neck. Or from a drug-dealer or hooker.

Conrad reached the doorway of his room, momentarily paused, then started harshly when he realized just what exactly was on his bed.

He almost prayed that it was just a dead body. It sure looked like one, the way the form was slumped face-down on the bed, like it was a puppet whose strings had been cut. But no, he could detect the heartbeat –pounding like a bass drum in his temples –and there were wispy-sounding breathes that sounded like little snores. Veser sometimes sounded like that when he slept.

But it was not Veser who was passed out on his bed. Oh no, it was much worse.

"What The FUCK Are You DOING?" Conrad roared as he stormed forward to haul Worth's recumbent form off his sheets. He had been lying there in his disgusting coat with his shoes still on like he owned the place. Conrad didn't know what was more horrifying: Worth's dirty body on his sheets, the fact that apparently he could break into Conrad's apartment with ease, or that there was a living breathing human in his room when he was fucking starving.

Thankfully for Conrad, Worth didn't seem as awake and aware as he usually was. He came awake with a sharp snort and a half-hearted flail, but they lacked their usual power. It would occur to Conrad later that of course Worth was tired; he was as nocturnal as a vampire. "Wha tha fuck fag…" Worth tiredly growled out, before yawning right in Conrad's face.

That was the final straw for Conrad. He was tired, frustrated after the long night, and still really fucking hungry and Worth once again was resembling food in his mind. Worth had to leave. Right. The Fuck. Now.

Holding his breath –stupidly not realizing he didn't need the air –after the nasty blast from Worth's yawn, he pulled Worth's half-struggling form down the hall by his arm to the door. "Get the fuck out of here!" Conrad shouted as he yanked the door open and flung Worth in the hall. "And don't you ever come back!" he screamed out at Worth as he slammed the door. He locked it with every lock he possessed (the handle, the deadbolt, and the chain he had added after Adelaide's break-in) then backed away from the door. Awkwardly he stood there, just listening. He heard Worth grumble, several thuds, then nothing. Apparently Worth was too tired to argue, or complain, or do anything to try to guilt Conrad into letting him in. As if Conrad would ever give in.

Breathing out his sigh of relief, Conrad turned his back to the door and groaned in horror. He would need to wash his sheets –nay, bleach the ever-loving fuck out of them –and his floors, and Febreeze the hell out of the air, and…do lots of other cleaning stuff that he was really too tired to attempt. Getting Worth out of his apartment, and fighting off the urge to bite him, had drained him. He wanted food, but since the last possibility of that had been flung out his door, that wasn't going to happen today. So, sleep was the next best option.

Conrad shuffled to his room and looked over the damage. His covers were a bit rumpled, but there didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with them…–hang on. There was a dark splotch on the coverlet. What was that?

Cautiously Conrad stepped forward and scrutinized what Worth had left. He froze. In the muted light of his room, Conrad stared in quiet amazement at the bag of blood sitting innocently on his bed.

~*~ There will be more! Because the chance to write the next chapter will keep me going as I head towards the finals finish line.
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