Very light Finas/Casimiro. If you squint. And tilt your screen. Oh, and violence, bad language, friends being very mean to each other, and a plot bunny based on speculative theories about Casimiro's eye. I hope that covers it all...

The Real Curse

There was the sound of a man screaming, and then there was not.

Finas winced as Casimiro's fangs sank deeper into his hand, but this was the only way to do it. Nobody wanted to see-or hear-a vampire in this state.

Finas had caught Casimiro trying to claw out his cursed eye-again. Their furniture was a bit worse for the wear, but the important thing was that Finas had gotten Casimiro away from the mirror shards he had been trying to use as tools. The couch was a lost cause, but the coffee table was proving to be a worthy investment, as it had not cracked under the pressure of having both their heads slammed against it several times, and was now serving as an excellent flat surface against which to pin the slender Italian vampire.

Casimiro growled something around his mouthful of Finas's hand. Finas shook his head and tightened his grip on Casimiro's jaw. The other vampire began thrashing harder in frustration and screaming, and Finas disentangled the arm he had been using for a stranglehold on Casimiro's neck so he could pin down the vampire's arms more effectively.

"I can do this all night," Finas told him. "You just need to calm down."

"I hope this isn't a vanity thing," he continued, "We've discussed before that your eye makes you look more…I've forgotten the term you chose for it."

"Baarg-aff," Casimiro spat around Finas' hand.

"Ah. Bad-ass. You do so well at keeping abreast with the modern jargon."

Casimiro tried to growl again, but it became a rather high-pitched, panicked whimper. "Finaff, ih hurth!"

"Well, stabbing it out isn't going to make it hurt any less."

Casimiro shook his head hard, trying to shake off Finas' hand. "Ah wand id ouw, Ah neee do ged id oud!" The eye in question began to glow, and his skin began to peal away into something more demonic.

Finas sighed and slammed Casimiro's head against the table one more time. "Stop that. You're being childish."

As Casimiro lay stunned-and more human-looking-under him, Finas took the opportunity to reach for the steel cord he kept around for these occasions. He flipped Casimiro over onto his back, and began securing his wrist to one of the legs of the coffee table.

Casimiro swung his other fist up and into Finas' jaw. "You've got no fucking idea-!"

Finas backhanded him deftly and caught his other arm. As he tied it down to the other coffee table leg, he said, "I really think you're going to feel very silly come morning. Are you hungry?"

"I want this goddamn thing out of my face!" Casimiro roared, and then his voice dropped back into a whine. "Finas, it's burning cold. I can't even see out of it right now, it's not doing anything there, it just hurts, I don't need it-"

Finas stuffed a chunk of ruined furniture between his friend's jaws. "It can't be burning and cold at the same time. That wouldn't make any sense."

Casimiro grunted something against the wood stuck in his fangs. Then he began chewing the wood into smaller bits so he could spit it out.

Finas took the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen and fetch some of the blood they kept on reserve for when they didn't feel like going out. Unfortunately, it had been a very long time since they had not felt like going out. He frowned at one of the packages. "This might be expired," he called back to Casimiro in the living room, "But you're just going to have to settle for it." He ripped the package open and began pouring the slightly congealed contents into a mug.

"Pain is one thing, but a curse is another. The fact is that we don't know what would happen if you really were to gouge your eye out. I don't think it would stop you from losing your humanity so easily," said Finas as he listened to Casimiro spit splinters across the living room. "I doubt it's so simple. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if removing your eye made it worse, or made you turn for good. You were going to ask the paranormal investigator-"

"Thas fuddin' 'id!" Casimiro interjected.

"Well, 'that fucking kid' probably could have given us some answers right then and there about what that cursed eye is doing to you. But you decided to go about it the roundabout way. He didn't have to go straight to Adelaide."

"I wan' tha' 'itch 'o thuffer the 'ay Ah do!"

"And in the meantime, you're the only one in pain."

Casimiro let out another frustrated scream that the furniture in his fangs didn't do much to stifle.

"The neighbors are going to hear that and think we're up to something terrible."

"Fuh' the 'eighbors!"

Finas rolled his eyes. "Dinner's ready."

" 'm no' 'UN'RY!"

Finas put the mug on the table, a safe distance from Casimiro in case he began struggling again. He took a firm hold of Casimiro's jaw again and began gently digging out the remaining splinters in his mouth, ignoring Casimiro's attempts to bite him.

"You're going to eat quietly. And then I am going to untie you, and you are going to go to bed and lie down quietly," Finas told him. "And you're going to feel much better tomorrow evening. Quietly."

Casimiro just glared at him. When Finas held the mug up to his lips he began to drink, but then bit a chunk out of the rim of the mug and spat the mess into Finas' face.

Finas licked some of the blood running past his lips. "Sorry. That stuff really is expired, isn't it."

"It's fucking disgusting," Casimiro spat. "I can't believe you're feeding me fucking disgusting congealed old blood."

"That's your own fault. You're being difficult, and I can't leave you alone long enough to get something fresh."

"I feel better. Untie me."

"Nice try."

Casimiro pulled weakly against the cords holding him down. "I'm okay now."

"Quite frankly, I doubt that you are ever okay anymore." Finas picked up what was left of the mug and took it to the kitchen to clean it. He kept the water running at a low pressure so he could keep an ear on Casimiro.

"Oy mey…"

Finas left the remains of the mug in the sink and went back to Casimiro. "Now, I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded."

Casimiro muttered something Italian, and wouldn't look at him. His hands clenched into fists and his face tightened as a new wave of pain emanated from his eye.

Finas frowned. "It's something else, isn't it. Casimiro? Cas."

"There's something really wrong with that kid," Casimiro gritted through his fangs. "I've just been wanting to kill myself since I saw him. It hurts so badly. It's not my fault."

Finas sighed. "Of course it's not your fault."

Casimiro twisted against the steel cords and attempted a smile. It came across rather sickly and weak. "But I'm okay. I'm really okay, I'm not, I'm not turning or anything. I'm human still, I mean, human for us, I mean, I'm not going off. I'm okay. You don't believe me."

"I believe you're trying," said Finas. "And I don't believe that really does it at this point. Do not look at me like that. I'm saying this because you need to hear it."

Finas winced as Casimiro let himself go limp. "This isn't helping. You don't even know what I'm talking about, and this isn't helping."

"You're losing control. Every time you lose your temper you start turning, and it happens faster every time. And when was the last time your eye didn't hurt? And now this." Finas ducked his head a little so he could catch Casimiro's gaze in his good eye. "You can't make this better by yourself. It's beyond you. That's what a real curse is."

It occurred to Finas that he had left the water running. He got up to turn it off.

"If you're sick of me, I can leave," he heard Casimiro say softly. "That'd be easier all around, wouldn't it?"

Finas stopped still for a moment. Then he grabbed what was left of the mug and smashed it to fine powder on the counter. He turned to look over his shoulder and gave Casimiro a dangerous look. "Do. Not. Say that."

The Italian shrank against the table he was tied to. "I just mean that I don't want to waste your-"

Finas stomped back to him and kicked him hard in the gut. "If I was sick of you, I would not be here. If I wanted you gone, you would be gone. Do you honestly think I would spend my time worrying about some hotheaded, reckless little berk of an eyetie if I thought I was wasting my time?"

Casimiro stared up at him stupidly. Finas wondered for a second if he had really done it this time.

But then the Italian began laughing. "Did you just call me a eyetie? I mean, what freaking century is that even from? Are you kidding? You, you, you limey. That's a term I can use, right? Do I get to call you that now? I'm gonna call you that from now on. Limey."

And so the crisis was averted for a little while longer. Finas knelt down to untie Casimiro. Casimiro ducked his head a little so he could catch Finas' gaze with his good eye. "Finas, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." He grinned. "Ya fucking limey."

Finas rewarded him with a guarded smile.

"Let's go out and do something fun, huh? Get something fresh," Casimiro rubbed at his freed wrists and grinned. "A bar. I always like a little extra something-something in the blood stream…"

Finas let him babble and laugh as they descended the stairs of their apartment building into the cold night air. He wanted to let him do those things as long as possible.

Until the real curse set in…