Author's Note: First up, I'd like to give a HUGE round of thanks/kudos to missroserose for beta reading this chapter. It is light years better thanks to her. You rock!
Second, I'd like to thank everyone who commented on the last chapter. I was nervous about it, and your support REALLY helped! *HUGS*
Now onto the chapter. As always, hope you enjoy!
David is no stranger to stalking humans.
He's a vampire. A hunter. Tracking - cornering - prey comes with the territory.
The activity - both a pastime and a necessity - is one he has revelled in for decades. Savoring that first moment when a target would cross his path - marking them by scent and sight - almost as much as the final gush of their blood on his tongue.
Whether it's a week long hunt, slowly breaking the spirit of his prey before breaking his prey, or a quick, down and dirty kill with the rush of their fear-spiked blood quenching his thirst in a hasty minute, there's enjoyment aplenty to be found when it's done right. And even when it's not - when the prey is weak, or drugged, or thankful for their own death - it at least ends with his hunger sated, and a reminder of where he stands in the scheme of things.
At the top of the heap.
One thing he never thought he'd feel while engaging in the activity though, is bitter. Doing it not as a means to an eventual meal, or because he's just damn good at it, and takes pleasure in a job done well, but because he can't seem to help himself.
And yet, here he is. Watching - stalking - his lover from the shadows as the half-vampire putters around the boardwalk with his mother and his brother. The lot of them smiling. Laughing. Getting pizza. Shopping.
Just all around having a blast by the looks of it.
But David's sure as hell not. Instead he finds his emotional state vacillating between annoyed to bored to fucking wistful to just plain old-fashioned depressed when Michael fails to notice that he's near.
David's been a vampire for more than eighty years, and he has no idea what the fuck he's doing anymore.
Because this? This feeling like he needs to be around Michael? As if the thread connecting them will snap if the boy's gone for too long or goes too far away?
It's unsettling. Confusing. Frustrating.
Unacceptable.
Worst of all, the more nights that pass, the more time they spend together - whether their bodies are pressed skin to skin or they're astride their bikes out riding, exploring, drinking… talking?
The worse it seems to get. So that every time Michael drags his arms through the sleeves of his coat, and says 'see ya' David hates it a little bit more.
He can almost hear the boys laughing at him over it. Ribbing him for his obsession with the teenager.
But the boys are dust, and won't be laughing about anything ever again.
He wonders if this is just what happens when you make a new vampire. If that's the source of this strange compulsion to be near Michael. In which case, how the fuck did Max manage it?
Because he sure has shit never lived out of David's or the boys pockets' the way that David wants to do with Michael.
Maybe he should have asked him at some point. But Max...didn't like to share. The opposite of, in fact. And David was taught - in excruciating detail - that it was best to keep questions to himself.
Still. He regrets not asking now - consequences be damned - because he detests not knowing.
Whatever the cause, he figures it'll self-correct once Michael finally makes his first kill, and leaves his human family behind.
It has to.
Not that he seems all that inclined to such an action at the moment, ruffling his brother's hair and getting scolded by his freaking mother for it the way that he is.
David's eyes trail the three as they pause at one of the little pop-up kiosks between stores. The lines of Michael's body go tense the moment his mother's and brother's attention is diverted away from him and onto some worthless knick-knack piece of crap. His spine straightening, and eyes more alert than before as he scans the trickling stream of passersby.
David leans forward, examining the way that Michael's nostrils flare when a buxom redhead strolls past, giggling arm and arm with a pretty blonde. Michael's head turns as the duo pass him, the lamp overhead illuminating him like an overexposed photo.
David catches a hint of teeth in the light, sharpened points on display before Michael manages to clamp his lips shut over them. A quick glance down confirms that Michael's hands are clenched into fists, concealing his nails. And even across the distance between them, David can hear how the lethargic heart in the boy's chest speeds up as he tracks the pair down the boards. The urge to dip into Michael's head to see what he's thinking - what he's imagining - rises, but David dismisses it.
He doesn't need to read Michael's mind to know what it is the boy wants.
The entire display of poorly disguised hunger disappears - quick as a flash - when Lucy turns back to Michael, asking him a question. The predator eyeing his next meal replaced with the countenance of an average teenager out enjoying time with his family, shitty posture and all.
David smiles. The boy's closer to breaking than David had realized. Maybe it's time he amps up the pressure. Solve both their problems in one go.
Have him fully by David's side, where he belongs; his human family an afterthought.
And David's world back in a place where things make sense.
David stubs out his cigarette on the heel of his shoe, enjoying the burnt stench it makes against the rubber sole, and tears his gaze away from the happy go-lucky trio as they wander into another store - this one's already putting out their Christmas decorations, even while the ghost of Halloween is still shining bright at the shop next to it - and aims his gaze into the crowd milling down by the stage.
Plenty of out-of-towners in for the show.
He'll feel better once he grabs a bite to eat.
~~~\/~~~
"Michael, what do you think about this one, honey?"
Michael swivels his head towards his mother at the question, careful to drop his eyes while he gets his hunger - and his shifting inhuman features - under control. When he's ready, he blinks at the strange little bobble-head figure she's holding on display in her hands. The thing a cross between a garden gnome and Davy Crockett. "Uhh, who for?"
She giggles, eyes dancing. "For your grandfather."
Michael tilts his head, trying to see why she thinks it may be a good gift for the old man, but he's got nothing aside from it being as weird as he is. He shrugs. "Uhh, sure. It's...great?"
His Mom snorts out another laugh. "Oh, Michael." She rolls her eyes and turns back to the cashier. Her eyes off him again, Michael glances back down the boards, seeking but not finding the pair of girls that had grabbed his attention. The two long gone, which is...a good thing? He thinks.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. A breath hauled in through his nose carrying a scent that brings David to the front of his mind. He scans the area, seeking out the blond. A strange feeling of disappointment settling in his stomach when he doesn't spot him.
He frowns at himself. What the hell would it matter if David was nearby? What would Michael do, invite him to come hang out with them for the rest of their family night?
Yeah. Right.
He flicks his eyes back to his mother and brother, only to find that Sam is watching him, a sour look on his face. "Everything okay, Mike?"
Michael clears his throat, ducking his head in a quick nod of assent. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"
Sam gestures to his face. "You, uh, you got that look. Like...chicken nuggets?"
Michael grimaces. He thought he was better at hiding it than that now. Or, maybe he is, and Sam just knows him too damn well. "Sorry."
Sam shakes his head, a half-smile twisting his lips upward. "It's okay, Bro. Just keep your teeth to yourself, and it's all good, yeah?"
"Yeah. Course." Michael agrees, but doesn't feel that good about his chances. The bouts of hunger are easier to handle these days, but also harder to anticipate. Cracks starting to form in his walls at the oddest of times.
Though - at the very least - it seems to only happen in direct response to people he doesn't know. Which is...better than the alternative, he guesses.
Shaking the thoughts off, Michael follows his mother and brother into the next store, glancing over his shoulder, seeking a pair of eyes in the dark that aren't there, but that he wishes were.
And hating himself a little for it. Worried at how often the blond is on his mind. And why.
He has no idea what the store is even selling - stuck in his own thoughts as he is - but soon enough, Sam and their mother make their purchases and they continue on. Sam leading out front with Michael and their mom bringing up the rear.
A few seconds into the walk their mother loops her arm through Michael's, tugging him close to her side as they stroll. "This is nice. I missed this."
Michael smiles down at her, holding her arm close in his. "Me too."
He means it too. He recalls a few years ago, when he would have balked at the open sign of affection. The simple fear of a teenage boy scared for the world to know he even has a mother, let alone that he loves her.
Recalls a few short months ago when he physically wouldn't have been able to handle her being so close without fear that his hunger would turn things ugly. An entirely different and altogether more sensible fear for all that hurting his mother is one of the last things he ever wants to do.
Michael never thought life could be so strange, or complicated.
"Thank you."
Confused at the whispered offer of gratitude, Michael glances down at her. "For what?" The last thing she should be is thankful to him. For anything. Not when he's been the cause of so much grief since they came to Santa Carla. A move made specifically to get away from the ever-present trauma of their father. And one that Michael has managed to fuck up royally.
She sighs, looking forward as they meander along. "For just...letting me have this. I know that...well, I know things haven't been easy for you, even if I don't really know, you know? But, I appreciate you coming home sometimes - I miss you when you're gone - and just...letting us be a family still."
Michael gulps, glancing out and away when his mom looks at him. Focusing instead on Sam's back a dozen steps ahead where he's chatting with someone at a clothing shop. "Mom...I don't mean to - you and Sam, Grandpa too - you're always gonna be my family. You know that. Right? No matter what. I promise."
"Oh, Michael. Don't-" She cuts herself off. Michael tries - and fails - not to listen to the way her pulse speeds up, then slows back to normal. He doesn't mean to slip inside her head, but as he meets her eyes it happens anyway. 'Don't make promises you can't keep.'
His heart breaks a little at the unspoken words. He opens and closes his mouth, wanting to put her fears to rest, but finds that he can't.
Not when he's too worried she might be right to have them.
He squeezes her arm, earning a watery smile in return. "So...have you heard back from city services about the job?"
He shakes his head. "Not yet. Said I should check back in a day or two. Figure I'll swing by tomorrow after sunset, see if I can annoy them into saying yes."
His mother laughs, the sound not as carefree as it should be.
He coughs, desperate to redirect the conversation off of himself. "How 'bout you. How's work?"
His mother rolls her eyes, but proceeds to tell him all about the latest and not so greatest goings on at the video store.
He still wants her out of there, but her thoughts - when he not-so-accidentally invades them again - are a little lighter, a little brighter than before.
It's a tiny victory, but he'll take every one that he can get.
~~~\/~~~
Four days later, and Michael can't stop thinking about the conversation with his mother on the boards.
He just...can't get it out of his head. Dwelling on it through the long nights he spends alone in his room at his grandfather's house, and now it's infiltrating his time at the hotel as well.
A place where he has been doing his best to keep his family at the back of his mind. Wanting - needing - a bit of separation between the two disparate halves of his life.
Something that's getting more difficult to do - for a lot of reasons - the more time that goes by.
He feels like he's barrelling towards an endpoint a lot faster than he'd planned. A lot faster than he'd hoped. Not wanting to disappoint his family. Not wanting to lose them.
But no longer sure he's got a choice in the matter.
Not wanting to dwell on what is or isn't inevitable, he shoves thoughts of the conversation with his mother - and her justified worries - away and decides now's as good a time as any to let David know the news.
"I found a job."
They're lounging on the ancient, and yet surprisingly comfortable, couch in the main room of the hotel when Michael says it.
David's sitting at one end. A well-read book his distraction of choice for the evening, one that Michael's seen him with more than a few times, though he has no idea what it is or what it may be about. Meanwhile, Michael is spread out along the rest of the sofa, his legs dangling over the one arm, head laying on the cushion nearest to David. Close but not quite touching - a magazine in hand.
"Say again?"
Michael flips through the mag, looking for something of even the remotest interest. "I said I found a job."
"Thought that's what you said." David's voice is onenote in that manner that Michael knows by now either means he doesn't give a shit, or he really, really does. "Didn't know you were looking."
Michael leans his head back to glance up at the vampire, surprised. "Yeah. Started again when I withdrew from school. Thought you knew that?"
"No. You never mentioned."
Michael blinks, confused. "Well, no, but…" He lifts a hand towards his temple and taps at it.
David's eyes shift away from his book towards Michael, then slide back to the page just as easy. "I don't dig around in there for every errant thought, Michael. You know that."
Michael frowns. He's gotten so used to David always seeming to know his thoughts at the same time as he has them that he just sort of figured he did exactly that. Especially with how the vampire sees boundaries more as an annoyance than a deterrent.
"So...what's the job?" David turns the page of his book, keeping his focuses away from Michael, so Michael angles his head back to his magazine, pretending to do the same.
"Nothing great. Just late night clean up at the boards for the holiday season. Not like I have a lot of qualifications. And not being able to work during daylight is more of a problem than I thought it would be." Michael shrugs, but the movement is swallowed by the couch. "But it'll be steady pay for a couple of months. And the boss said that if I'm not a total fuck up they may keep me on full-time into the new year. Hell, even suggested that if I stick it out, and bother getting my GED, I could maybe get a bump to security or something down the road." Michael chuckles. Finding the concept of being security pretty damn hilarious, given what he is. "Pretty sure he doesn't think I'll last that long. They went on and on about safety concerns, too. You'd have laughed your ass off." Michael grins up at David at the memory.
David doesn't laugh, just wrinkles his nose. "Why the hell would you want to do any of that?"
Michael's smile falls away as he stares backwards up at David. The answer obvious enough to him that he doesn't think it needs saying. "Need a job."
"For what?" There's a low-level growl in David's voice, irritation bleeding through loud and clear in the short question.
The feedback loop of David's irritation fuels Michael's frustration. He twists in place enough to make sure that David can see just how dense he thinks he is at the moment. "To make money, David."
David gives up any pretense of reading, the book dropping closed in his lap. "Why do you need money?"
Michael stares at David, surprised to find that the vampire looks...confused. "You serious?"
"Yes." There is that irritation again, wiping away the confusion with a well-placed scowl.
"To pay for things." Michael enunciates each word. Nice and slow. Making it as clear as he can how idiotic he thinks the question is.
He expects David to get pissed off at the patronizing attitude, like he usually does. But instead he's making a face at Michael's response like he's sucking on a lemon. "You want something? Say the word. We can make a night of it. Haven't been on a shopping spree in a while. Boys and I used to go all the time. Fun enough way to spend a evening."
Michael chuckles at the way David's expression turns hopeful, like a kid asking for an extra dessert. "Thanks?" Michael blinks away the feeling of whiplash he's getting from David's roller coaster of emotional responses, trying to keep his own feelings as even as he can. "But it's more for the less tangible stuff."
At David's arched brows, Michael continues. "Like water, electricity for my Grandpa's house? Food too. The old bastard could probably survive on root beer and Oreos in a dark house so long as he has his TV Guide and a damn working toilet, but the rest of us can't." David is silent, so Michael continues. "Four people, it adds up. And I know Sam misses having cable."
"There's no TV in that house, Michael. What the hell you going to connect cable to? A watch?" David tweaks at Michael's earring. Michael swats him away, but he just comes back, like a damn cat, playing with the dangling metal.
"Yeah, we'd have to get one of those first, but the monthly service is the real bitch. My Mom's been doing her best, but she shouldn't have to do it all her own. Not when I can help." Michael drops the magazine to the floor. "Besides, I want her out of that damn video store. The assistant manager, Maria? She's pissy all the time these days, and my Mom doesn't deserve that shit. She's got enough to worry about."
David snorts. "Maria's pissy because she was wrapped around Max's finger. Knew what he was, and damn certain she was expecting an invite at some point. Now he's gone, so's her free ride into immortality."
Michael blinks up at the blond. That was not a statement he'd been in any way expecting. "Shit."
"Yeah."
"Think she knows who's responsible?"
David shakes his head. "Doubtful. But if she's becoming a problem, we can deal with it. Don't like hunting locals, but better that than letting someone who knows too much start making noise." David makes a humming sound, getting that look that Michael's starting to associate with thoughts of a meal - of a hunt. Eyes bright, and skin a warmer shade of pale. "Could even do it tonight, if you're up to it. I know where she lives."
One of David's fingers traces the shell of Michael's ear up from the piercing, and then back down and around along his neck. Looping back and forth, over and over again. It makes Michael feel an awful lot like he's some kind of pet, but it also feels damn good, so he's not inclined to make him stop. David's voice when he speaks is as enthralling as the motions are. "She'd make a nice first meal for you, Michael. She'd struggle, but she'd also remember how good it felt when Max fed from her, so she'd want it too. Would give the flavor a nice kick."
The hunger that never quite fades in Michael simmers at the offer, sending a wash of adrenaline and need out from his core through his limbs. He curls the fingers of one hand inward, digging blunt nails into his palm, and releases a long breath. "I'm good. Thanks."
"One day you're not going to be able to swallow down your own bullshit anymore."
Michael heaves a breath of air out on a sigh. He's right, of course. They both know it. But, Michael's not quite at the point of giving in. Not yet. "Maybe. But not today."
"Pity." The tracing of his ear continues. "Now why is it you think getting a job is the way to solve your mother's money problems?"
"You got a better idea?"
The fingers of David's hand stroke lower, along Michael's neck. Michael grits his teeth, but doesn't tell him to stop. The contact sending little sparks of pleasure through his skin - telling him to enjoy it - even while it's pissing him off, making him feel he's being toyed with. "If having too many people living in the house is causing an issue, cut the cord. Pack up the rest of your stuff and bring it here. One less person for them to worry about."
"I'm not moving in here full time, David."
The stroking stops, but David's fingers stay touching Michael's skin, right at his pulsepoint. "Why the hell not?"
Michael rolls his eyes, the answer to that question damn obvious far as he's concerned. "I don't know. How about the fact that it's a fucking cave? With no electricity or running water."
David makes a humming sound in his throat, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a smug grin. "Hasn't seemed to stop you from spending half your days and nights here so far."
"Because I can go home and shower and enjoy the fact that I don't live in the dark ages."
David's brows furrow as he looks at him. "I shower, Michael. Trust me, there's other options than living with your mother if that's what you're worried about." David begins tapping his fingers against Michael's neck in a slow but steady beat. "As for electricity...well, what do you need it for really? No TV in either place, and the radio here works just as well as anywhere else on batteries. Plus you can play it loud as you want." The tapping continues. It doesn't take long for Michael to realize that it's in time with his own sluggish heartbeat. The reminder of how much he's changed sending chills up his spine. "What more do you need, Michael?"
Michael clenches his jaw. "Fine. Then how about the fact that all it's gonna take is one more nice rattle to send this whole place pitching into the ocean?"
"It's held this long, it'll hold a while longer. Besides, if a quake comes, we'll know early enough to get clear."
"And if it's the middle of the day?"
"Point." David gives a slight nod, managing from his angle over Michael to look like he's doing him a favor by agreeing. "But, if you'd deign to sleep back at the roost instead of the bed, we'd be safe enough if that happened. Plenty of support in case of a quake."
Michael scrunches his face at the suggestion, shaking his head. "I'm not sleeping hanging upside down like a damn bat, David." Because, seriously? If his choices are a warm, comfortable bed or sleeping like an animal in a dank cavern, it's not a choice. At all. And - frankly - he's confused as to why David would pick the latter. "I mean, what the fuck is the point?"
David's voice sounds calm, but the syllables are drawn out long and low in a way that suggests he's feeling anything but. "You should try it before you knock it, Michael. Might find you sleep better if you did."
Indignation mixes with irritation at David's insinuation. "I sleep just fine."
David sucks on his teeth, pressing his tongue to the back of them. "You're an awful fucking liar, you know that?" He taps once, hard, against Michael's neck. 'How were those dreams of yours this morning, Michael?'
Michael swallows down a wave of nausea. He doesn't always remember his dreams, but usually these days when he does they're unpleasant, and can be traced to his not having fed in awhile. More often than not, it's how he knows it's time to take his leave of his family and seek out the vampire.
But not this time. This time he'd been well fed, sated, laying within arm's reach of David in the canopied bed when his dreams had taken a turn for the macabre—
—Sam's broken body stretched out at Michael's feet, dead eyes staring up into nothing, his blood dripping down Michael's chin. Flesh torn from bone, flayed open from neck to navel.
Michael laughing as he licked the blood from his fingers—
Michael didn't tell David about it. Which means he was either projecting it without realizing, or - for all his claims to the contrary - David does go digging around Michael's brain whenever he pleases.
"But maybe the dreams don't bother you. Who am I to judge?" The tapping pauses, David's fingers gone still against Michael's skin. "But you're clinging to yourgrace period like a life preserver, Michael. It has to end sometime. And when it does, sleeping where the sun's just a drawn curtain away will be a death sentence."
"You think I don't know that? With the fuckin' headache it gives me now?"
"A headache isn't burning flesh, Michael. Trust me. It does more than sting."
The smell of sizzling meat infiltrates Michael's thoughts. The visceral feeling of excruciating pain as his hand catches flame making him recoil. For the most part he's learned to tell the difference between his own thoughts and David's over the last few months, but it doesn't make living through the other man's memories any easier.
He shakes his hand out, flexing his fingers in and out, just to reassure himself that he's still intact. "Doesn't mean you can't sleep in a bed. Not like the one here's seen a sunbeam in a decade. Safe enough."
There's a long pause before David answers, his voice soft - deliberate. "Safe from the sun. But not from nosy assholes exploring where they shouldn't. Or from those earthquakes you're scared of. Better, safer, back in the roost."
"Yeah, right. Safer." Michael grumbles. Tired of the conversation, of the phantom pain in his still-throbbing hand, of the nauseating taste his imagination has conjured up of his brother's blood in his mouth, of the feeling that he's being backed into a corner. The last thing Michael fucking needs is David pressuring him to put further distance between himself and the family he already feels like he's losing.
Determined to drop the topic before the corrosive feelings building inside him eat through his chest, he picks his magazine back up. As he flips through the pages, a stray thought Michael has no intention of having let alone voicing runs through his head without his permission: 'Place is so damn safe, but it couldn't keep the Frogs out. Couldn't keep Marko alive.'
A heartbeat later, David flicks his fingers - nails extended halfway to claws - at the sensitive skin behind the lobe of Michael's ear. The scratch draws a deep swell of blood. Michael yelps, slapping David's hand away, and sits up on the couch, glaring at the other man. "What the fuck?!"
The expression on David's face is murderous, jaw clenched tight. "Because of you, Michael! The only people that knew about the place before you went and blabbed were family or food!"
"Yeah, well, whose fault was it that I felt the need to bring them here in the first place, David!? If you hadn't been so fucking set on your murderous creature of the night bullshit and just talked to me, maybe I wouldn't have fought so damn hard and they'd still be alive!" Michael spits the accusation at David, cruel in a way he didn't used to think he was capable.
David leans forward deep into Michael's space, features shifting - his eyes shining amber and teeth descending. "You want to say that again?"
Michael knows he should bend. Apologize. That his life would be easier if he did. But he can't. "You heard me."
David's jaw ticks back and forth, the amber in his eyes receding. "You're a real peach tonight. Hungry, Michael? Need to bite something? If Maria's not to your taste, there's another concert at the boards. Be easy pickings. Could swing by, have a decent meal. Bet you'd be in a better mood after."
"Like I said. I'm good." Michael bites the words out through clenched teeth, the hot rush of anger refusing to dissipate, fed along by the trickle of blood still seeping from the wound on his neck.
"Oh, I heard you. But since every word out of your mouth tonight is complete bullshit, figured I'd ask again. Give you a chance to try the truth out for a change."
"Fuck you, David." No longer willing to engage, Michael rises from the couch. No real destination in mind, just needing to put distance between them.
He doesn't get far. David standing so quick that he seems to materialize in Michael's space, even though that's not one of the hidden powers David possesses.
At least, Michael doesn't think it is.
"I've been pretty damn patient with you these last few months, Michael. With your grace period. Offering my blood on tap. Keeping you well-fed so you don't go feral and eat dear ol' Sam and Lucy." David's voice is smooth, venomous. "How long do you think you'd last, if I cut you off?"
The question slithers out of the vampire on an unconcerned slip of air, but it stabs Michael in the chest like a knife. Fear flavors the anger coursing through him. "We have a deal, David."
"It can't last forever. At some point, you have to cross the line."
Michael growls. "You think this hissy fit you're throwing over wanting to help my family is gonna convince me to do that?"
David's eyes flash amber again, outrage coloring his face. "They're not your family anymore, Michael!"
"Like hell they're not!" Michael bellows, his own features shifting to match the vampire staring him down. "Drinking your blood doesn't change that."
David tilts his head towards Michael; sibilant voice laced with malicious intent. "Oh, but it does. You think they're going to stay by you when you become what you're meant to be, Michael? You think you'll be able to waltz through their door fresh from a kill, and they won't piss themselves in fear?"
Michael flinches away like he's been slapped, heaving long draws of air into his lungs, trying - and failing - to send his vampiric features away. "Maybe not, but they'll still be my family, David. Or can't you understand that because you've never had one?"
He doesn't mean it. He doesn't. He knows what the boys meant to David, seen the way that he shuts down when he thinks about them. When he remembers that they're gone.
But Michael says it anyway. Aiming to hurt. Wanting to. Too angry, too frustrated, too afraid to see straight. He doesn't know where it's all coming from - doesn't even feel like all of it is his - but it's poisoning him.
David slinks a step closer to Michael, menace radiating from his frame. "You know, Michael. One of the benefits of your not being human anymore is that if I tear open your jugular and let you bleed out onto the floor you'll heal. The con to your still being half is that it'll take a damn long time." The blond circles his hand - tight - around Michael's wrist. The squeeze hard enough that Michael can feel the way the tendons and muscles compress against bone. "You want to find out how long?"
The threat hangs heavy in the air between them, Michael's uneven breathing the only break in the stillness as David's vengeful gaze digs deep into Michael's head. 'I had a family, Michael, and yours killed them!'
Michael's blood boils. "So what, they were your brothers, but Sam's not mine anymore, David? Huh? Fuck. That. Being a bunch of unlucky bastards in the wrong place at the wrong time drinking some asshole's blood doesn't make you family."
"Maybe not." David's grip on Michael's wrist turns rougher, the vampire using it to pull Michael further into his space, his voice a deep, steady thrum of constrained rage. "But the decades we spent living together? Taking care of one another? Protecting each other? Sure as shit did. What the fuck difference does it make whose sac you come out of? Blood of the covenant is thicker, Michael."
The statement strikes a chord in Michael, but the fact that with it David's implying that Sam matters less just makes it worse, not better. Still, it's enough to keep him from barking out a nasty retort in immediate response.
David seizes on the opening, amber eyes searching across Michael's face, lips pulling back to expose his fangs. "That's why we were family, Michael. And that's what I've been offering you, night after night. And what you've been saying yes to every time you've fed from me."
David twists his hold on Michael's wrist, sending burning threads of pain up the appendage. It stokes the flame of fury inside Michael ever higher. "Now you're getting a job? To pay bills? Playing at being human?" Claws prick at Michael's wrist. Lukewarm blood seeping around the tips and dripping down between his fingers. "We're not human, Michael! The same rules don't apply. The sooner you accept that, the better."
Michael yanks his arm out of David's grasp, uncaring how it leaves the flesh of his wrist in tatters, and snarls at him. "I'm still half-human, David. Remember?"
David sneers. "How could I possibly forget."
The urge to strike out at David, to swipe at him with claws and fists, to make him hurt - make him bleed - is intense. Michael bites his own tongue instead, determined not to give in to his steadily growing violent tendencies.
"Fuck this. I'm out." He stomps over to where his coat is thrown haphazard over David's chair, picking it up and shoving his arms through the sleeves, smearing blood all across the lining. He snatches his keys out of his pocket with a bloody fist, and heads for the exit.
The vampire's voice rings out behind him, condescending, and all-around fucking infuriating at the moment. "Running home to Mommy again?"
Michael flashes David the finger over his shoulder, not looking back.
Author's Note: It can't all be sunshine and rainbows, can it? *bites nails*