Getting near the end now, just a few more chapters (she says, wondering if it mightn't be about 15...)
With special thanks to redrachxo for allowing me to borrow her wonderful character Dmitri, who's probably horribly written here but can be seen in all his glory in her excellent story Darkness is Falling.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Bertrand, come i- Erin?" The former slayer shrugged sheepishly as Dmitri, hand still on the door handle, stared in shock.
"Hi, Dmitri. How've you been?" He blinked.
"I... Quite well, thank you... is he expecting you?"
"He's expecting us both," Bertrand assured him, "although I'm surprised he didn't tell you that himself."
"Well, you did fly at about the speed of light, he might not have had time," Erin grumbled.
"That's not true, we stopped briefly-"
"-because I threatened to throw up on your cape, yeah, thanks. I hate flying." Bertrand shrugged, and Dmitri stood aside to allow them entrance.
"The usual night-time security checks, I'm afraid, and then I'll show you through."
When Dmitri ushered Bertrand and Erin into the library, Robin barely noticed the girl. Oh, yes, he'd missed her, and talking on the phone wasn't quite the same, but the moment his eyes locked with Bertrand's it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. It seemed that the vampire was experiencing the same thing, though, as he took three paces towards Robin... then stopped dead, the slightest gesture of his hand stopping Robin in his tracks too. He followed Bertrand's eyes towards Dmitri, and realised Bertrand wasn't comfortable reuniting in such a public setting. He stood, though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to throw himself at his long-lost lover, and forced himself to stay still as the collective attention of the room gradually focused itself on the Grand High Vampire and his ex-girlfriend... who, apparently, had no such compunctions.
For a moment, as Robin glanced across, it was hard to tell where the vampire ended and the breather began, Erin wrapped tightly in his arms as she clung to him, kissing him back. His eyes slid back to Bertrand, but he could hardly escape hearing the snatched conversation Vlad and Erin were trying to have between kisses.
"This doesn't mean-"
"I know."
"I can't-"
"I know."
"We have to talk-"
"Later."
"But just once-"
"Yes. Fog, yes." And with that, Vlad nodded a dismissal to Dmitri, smiled apologetically at the parted lovers, and whisked his ex-girlfriend off to his chambers. Dmitri made his way back to his own coffin, so that only Bertrand and Robin still stood on opposite sides of the library, alone together at last.
The moment they were alone, Bertrand had intended to throw himself at Robin, but the boy seemed more interested in rooting in his pocket. For a moment, he held himself back, uncertain, but then it all became too much. Before he knew he was moving, Robin was trapped between his body and a bookcase, sighing contentedly against Bertrand's lips.
"Missed you..." he managed, pulling away for just long enough to get the words out and see the beginning of Robin's smile.
"Mm." For a moment, that was all the breather could manage, until at last he pulled away. "Didn't miss you at all."
That hurt, even if Robin smiled as he said it, and it must have shown on his face because Robin's fell too.
"Oh, love, don't be daft. I missed you unbearably. I wanted you to come home so I could do this-" he kissed him gently, chastely on the lips, "and this-" Bertrand could feel warm lips trailing soft kisses down his neck, and then Robin's hands gripped at his hips to pull him closer against him, "and that."
"Mm," he murmured by way of reply. "Only love me for my body." He jumped, surprised to feel the slightest graze of teeth at his neck, but he didn't move away as Robin scolded him fondly.
"Love you for everything." Then he was rummaging in his pocket again, before placing something cold and metallic in Bertrand's palm and closing his fingers around it. "Bite me."
He stepped back, suddenly struggling to hold back his fangs, and stumbled over his words as he glanced down to see what he'd been given.
"Not ton... not... not now... this..." He trailed off, inspecting the pewter band carefully. "Waves... you remembered..."
Bertrand had been eight years old when he made his third escape attempt. By now, he knew better than to think he could just run away from home and never come back – they always brought him back – but he wanted to get out of his lessons for just one day, a day in which he could do whatever he wanted instead of training and studying and practicing and learning.
He knew where he was going; he'd seen some boys about his age heading off in a westerly direction not two hours ago, and now he set off after them, hoping to catch up. He wasn't well known in the village, except perhaps as 'that weird kid who never plays', but that wasn't his fault. Maybe today would change that.
When he arrived at the beach, though, all thought of other children was forgotten. This, then, was the sea. He almost resented it for preventing his onward travel, but from where he was standing it seemed to go on forever and Bertrand couldn't imagine there being anywhere to travel to beyond it. Instead, he approached the edge, feeling the sand between his bare toes, and timidly dipped a foot into the cool water. He flinched – it was colder than he'd expected, given the warmth of the sun on his back – but waded carefully in.
He'd been taught to swim, of course, but this seemed entirely different from the pond at the back of the house – it had its own rhythm, its own movement, almost as if it had its own spirit. Bertrand just hoped it wouldn't carry him off completely as he took a cautious swim a little way out.
No, the tide was pulling him sideways, and he didn't want to have to walk for days to get home to his inevitable beating. He swam back to shore, coming out of the sea just along the beach, coincidentally near to where the boys from his village were playing, building forts in the sand. They looked up as he approached, and then one of them recognised him.
"Aren't you the weird Italian kid?" he asked in their native French.
"I'm French," Bertrand corrected him mildly, "and my name is Bertrand du Fortunesa." He waited to be shouted at, scorned, mocked for daring to contradict his betters – but no reprimand came.
When the parents of the village came out in force to save their children from the encroaching darkness and the incoming tide, Bertrand and his new friends were still happily playing in the waves, trying to build a sand fort big enough to stop the sea itself. Their failure wasn't even punished; the villagers scoffed fondly at their antics and dropped 'the little Italian boy' at his home on their way.
It had been worth the punishment, Bertrand told Robin, centuries later. He had loved every second.
Bertrand was turning the ring in his hands, smiling distantly, and Robin was glad to see that it had indeed brought up the desired happy memories. He kept his touch slow and gentle as he brought his hands to cover the vampire's, delicately relieving him of the ring and slipping it onto the appropriate finger, reaching across to entwine their left hands. It was a slightly awkward gesture, but the way his fiance's eyes fixed upon the two pewter rings glinting in the candlelight of Vlad's library assured him that Bertrand appreciated it.
"I'm yours," Bertrand whispered breathlessly, still staring down at their linked hands as if he couldn't quite believe it. "I'm really yours."
"Is that OK?" Robin was only half-joking, but the way Bertrand attacked his lips soon pushed aside any lingering insecurities.
"Yes. Yes. I love you. I... no matter what happens, I'll always love you, Bran." Robin knew he was practically purring as Bertrand's hands ran over his shoulders and down his back, but he didn't have it in him to care.
"This had better not be leading up to another if-you-want-to-back-out speech." He nipped at his lover's lip, teasing. "For one thing, I don't; I love you too much to grow old and let you have all the fun without me." Another nip, this time at his earlobe. "For another... I have better things to do than have this conversation again."
Bertrand raised an eyebrow.
"Really? What would you rather do?" Robin treated him to a truly wicked smirk and leant into his lover's chest, letting him support his weight as he ran his lips along the edge of the cape Bertrand was still wearing.
"Well... I'm quite cross with Vlad for sending you away to do something that didn't need doing." He stood upright so Bertrand could definitely see the unmistakeable glimmer in his eye. "And I seem to remember he was quite keen that we shouldn't get up to any funny business in his library." Bertrand's eyes were wide and dark now, watching him, and Robin could see his fangs just barely protruding from his top lip. "So what do you reckon?"
"Mm." The vampire was only pretending to think about it, Robin could tell. "I think we should thoroughly abuse the hospitality of his library, and then pretend we didn't."
"You can pretend." He teased, lips now perilously close to Bertrand's ear again. "I have every intention of looking exactly as shagged-out as I feel tomorrow morning."
"Well then," Bertrand practically growled, "I'd better-"
But Robin had had enough of talking, and stopped his mouth with a kiss.
