Sorry for the delay, dear readers. It's a short one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
Bertrand was in ecstasy, sweet, rich, red blood trickling past his fangs and down his throat. He didn't want it to ever stop; he couldn't imagine anything more important than swallowing every last drop of the delicious liquid, and so that was exactly what he did, only dimly aware of the struggles of his victim. It had been a long time since he'd drained a breather dry, but one couldn't exactly lose the knack for it. Gradually the struggles subsided, as did the blood flow, and Bertrand licked his lips, sated. It was only then that he realised who lay limp in his arms, never to stir again.
"Robin," he whispered brokenly, "Robin, no-" Then Vlad was shouting at him, not the reprimand he'd expected for draining the man he was supposed to be turning, just his name over and over again.
"Bertrand! Bertrand-"
"BERTRAND!" He opened his eyes. "For a highly-alert, trained fighter and strategist, you're bloody impossible to wake up." Robin was frowning down at him in concern, and Bertrand struggled to make sense of the information his eyes were relaying. He'd just seen Robin die, he'd killed him… He clutched at the boy who was leaning anxiously over him, desperate to feel the blood pulsing through his veins, to know he was alive. Robin bore this patiently, waiting until Bertrand's wide-eyed panic subsided before reaching down to stroke his lover's face.
"What was that about, B?" Robin had every right to ask, he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to admit what he had done, even in his imagination… he was disgusted with himself. He closed his eyes, feeling Robin flop down beside him, and tried to shake off the images in his head of his boyfriend, cold and unmoving. Robin's hand made itself felt, stroking through Bertrand's hair in a way that could only ever be reassuring, and Bertrand rolled onto his side to face the issue head on.
"I thought… I dreamt I bit you. I drained you, Robin, I'm so sorry-" He couldn't meet Robin's eyes, so he ended up staring at the coffin wall behind him. Robin, however, simply heaved a sigh.
"Do you trust me, B?" He nodded, confused, and felt Robin's hand tangle more firmly in his hair. "Good. Because I trust you. Let me prove it." Then his head was being guided gently towards Robin's neck, and though his entire body tensed in apprehension, Bertrand couldn't bring himself to resist.
Bertrand's face was nestled against Robin's neck, and Robin felt a tiny thrill as he realised this was completely new ground; Bertrand had never allowed himself to be so close to his boyfriend's pulse point before. He hoped he wasn't pushing him too far, especially after his nightmare, but it seemed like something his lover needed to know he was capable of doing. The vampire didn't move a muscle, he just lay there, his nose pressed awkwardly against Robin's skin.
"Are you alright, B?" There was no answer, and then he felt the tiniest pressure of Bertrand's lips against his throat. He almost thought he'd imagined it, but the world's softest kiss was repeated, and then again – twice more before Bertrand pulled away from him.
"I'm alright. I can control myself." Robin smiled at him, pulling him back down for a proper kiss.
They lay there together for a while longer, before Robin glanced over the top of the coffin at the alarm clock.
"It's morning. We must have slept longer than we thought." Bertrand made a small noise of complaint, and Robin chuckled to himself; who would believe that this Bertrand existed, if they'd only seen the Bertrand who presented himself to the rest of the world?
"Do we have to get up?" Robin shrugged.
"No, you don't. But I need to go and talk to Vlad, and then I have somewhere to be." He stooped and kissed his lover. "I'll see you later."
Bertrand did get up, about ten minutes after Robin left, and settled in their small library to start his research on how to overcome half-fang loyalty. He suspected any answers would be found, if anywhere, in Vlad's larger library, but he had to start somewhere.
Lost in his research, it wasn't until the sun began to sink that Bertrand began to worry about Robin's continued absence. Of course the boy had left for days at a time before – they were two different people, after all, and not co-dependent enough to spend all their time together – but something about the mysterious way he'd explained leaving was bothering Bertrand.
He'd just about resolved to go and demand answers from Vlad when he heard the key turn in the front door and raced downstairs to find Robin slumping against the door, clearly exhausted. As Bertrand stepped forward to help him with the stairs, he was overpowered by the smell of sunshine… mixed with the scent of blood. Robin's blood.