Prompt fill: "Aidan builds up an immunity to werewolf blood." Eventual slash. Spoilers up through season 3, episode 8 of the US version of Being Human. I've only watched up to episode 8 myself, so no spoilers past that point.
It was all for nothing.
Of all the things for Josh to dream up in the dark before the dawn, his arm still raw with Liam's marks, the curse already flooding his bloodstream with each inevitable beat of his heart, it is how he killed a man for nothing.
It's a difficult thing, to give to the family of a dead man without giving away that he was the one who murdered Ray. It was a stroke of luck that his wife was a woman of faith, and that her church had already made a habit of dropping off food and goods to the family from time to time. It hadn't been overly difficult to slip some donations into their mailbox in the wee hours of the morning with a simple envelop that read, "A gift from the friends of Williamsburg Baptist Church." So far Ray's wife and son hadn't caught on, and while it hadn't done anything to stave off the encroaching wall of guilt Josh felt over the past year and a half since the incident, it was at least something.
Now that something was for nothing. Josh had been free of the curse for a year and a half, had been unable to even free Nora from it, and now here he was, the scared teen in the woods outside of Ithaca all over again, gash marks on his body and disease in his heart. He was back at square one.
Except, no, he was not back at square one, because at least when this whole nightmare began four years ago he'd had Aidan, Aidan who was strange, a stranger, but not dying in the basement downstairs, dying because like always, Josh had been too late. Too late into his change to keep from mauling Nora's arm as he pushed her from the room; too late to tell Julia the truth, to spare her life. He was never enough to protect the ones he loved, and somewhere inside he felt a weak chuckle break through the still surface. Perhaps he had a taste of what it was like to be Aidan now, a fraction of the guilt and self-loathing the vampire felt at his own long line of losses.
Josh knew they all needed to be alone right now, though he wouldn't have known what to say to Aidan even if he had wanted company. Aidan was the one with the calling to the dead and dying, the one who was able to soothe the terminally ill from one life to the next. Aidan had been born and bred amongst death, and Josh was sure if their positions were reversed he'd have a better idea how to approach his doomed roommate, the sort of comfort to offer. But what could he say? What was there? Sorry that you're dying, but hey, 260-odd years is a pretty good run! Sorry that my fiance's former friends' psychotic father injected you with the vampire black death. But hey, there's a silver lining for everything, right? At least while you're dying you don't have to be picky about who you feed from anymore!
A broken, choked out sound ripped itself free from Josh's throat, but no tears would come. Instead he screwed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, feeling the panic attack coming on slow, the worst kind that took their time to build up and bowled him over into pieces when they broke over him. It wasn't real, as much as the bitter, defeated voice inside him turned to his old friend, sarcasm, to cope. Aidan wasn't dying, not after everything he'd—they'd been through. It wasn't real to him and no creeping, dark marks or wretched, full-bodied coughs could make it real.
It was all for nothing.
At least if Liam had killed him the older wolf might have felt vindicated for Connor and Brynne. Maybe he would have considered it square and forgiven Josh and Nora for shielding their killer. It would have made sense, and Liam didn't seem like the kind who would kill one of his own if there was someone else to take the blame. Josh and Nora could have been free and clear, Aidan would be somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone ever again, and all the loose ends—the ones he could reach, anyway—would have been tied up, finally.
Instead Josh had been tangled up in his mess once again, had put his life—his fragile, human life—on the line for him once more. Instead he was lying in the dank basement, staring at the ceiling, marveling at the feeling of the sickness running rampant through his body.
After all that Aidan was going to die anyway.
And Josh was—Aidan rolled over and out of bed, the frenetic energy snapping through him and demanding that he move, senselessly, purposelessly through the room. He could feel the cough building up inside him but held his breath, as if doing so could do more than forestall the inevitable.
He heard him coming late, and by the time he realized Josh was halfway down the stairs to his room the cough had built up inside him, held back by a dam of toothpicks. He didn't want to be sick in front of him, but even as he swallowed hard around the thick, wretched block in his throat, he knew it was pointless. The way Henry had looked at the end—how he'd woken, eyes glassy with their version of fever, dazed, not knowing where he was and weak as a newborn—Aidan would not be able to hide this ugly process from Josh.
Josh knocked, softly, and Aidan cleared his throat the best he could before rumbling out a, "Come in," in a weird approximation of his real voice. The door opened a crack, like Josh was intruding in a room in the ICU, and Aidan grimaced.
"Come in, Josh. I'm not dead—I'm not 're-dead,' yet."
His roommate peered into his basement quarters, that familiar doe-eyed, sad look on his face that Nora had once commented on so long ago. Josh cleared his throat and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. Aidan noticed he was hiding his torn-up arm behind his back, trying to be casual about it. A wry smile came to his face as he realized they were both trying to protect each other from the harsh truths, even now.
"How are you—I mean, that's stupid. 'How are you feeling,' I don't know what I… just. Do you, is it okay if I…"
"Yeah, of course," Aidan said, sitting down heavily on the bed and patting the vacated side for Josh to join him. He did, still tucking the injured arm subtly out of sight. Josh wasn't looking at him anymore, while Aidan meanwhile couldn't seem to look away from the side of his friend's face. The silence that settled in on them wasn't necessarily awkward, but it wasn't good, either.
He would have thought Josh would have craved solitude after tonight, but perhaps he'd read him wrong. Instead Aidan turned to face forward, finally, and took in a deep breath through his nose to calm the burning in his lungs. His eyes watered from the deep, watery tickle in his throat, but something else caught his attention as well.
"You don't… smell wolf-y, yet," Aidan commented, realizing a second after he said it that this was probably not something Josh wanted to talk about. To his surprise Josh didn't cringe or grimace at the mention of his re-established condition, instead peering at him out of the corner of his eye like he was afraid to look at him headlong.
"Oh?" Josh asked, breathing in rapidly a few times through his nose as if he would be able to smell himself. Aidan smiled slightly, the muscles needed for that expression feeling rusty and disused. Josh frowned, his shoulders moving in a gentle, tired shrug. "Maybe it's because I haven't had my first transformation yet?"
"Maybe," Aidan agreed, leaning over to sniff at Josh's shoulder once more, mainly just to keep them talking. What had meant to be a light, teasing gesture gave way to something different, though, as Aidan found himself pausing over the crook of Josh's neck, letting his eyes slip shut. No, he definitely didn't smell like a wolf yet, even though the curse was well on its way to tainting all of his cells now. All Josh smelt like was blood, moving thick and quick beneath skin that was still alive with the buzz of the adrenaline of the night. He must be nervous, or in some sort of emotionally heightened state, since it had been over two hours since they'd gotten home from their scrape with Liam.
"You—" Aidan jerked at Josh's voice, snapping out of whatever world he'd been lost in. Josh was going on and Aidan struggled to tune in to what he was saying. "We… look." Josh turned to face him in full, looking up at him with his chin tilted down in that way he always did. "We're going to find a way to beat this. Okay?"
For a moment Aidan didn't know what he was talking about. Then it clicked and the first thing that occurred to him to do was to laugh. He managed not to, but couldn't stop the bemused, bewildered smirk that quirked up the edge of his mouth. "You—this?" Aidan asked, gesturing to his broken, dying body as a whole. "Josh—"
"No," Josh said, shaking his head and lifting his good arm to stop Aidan from going on. "I know what you're thinking, and I know you're—you're already giving up, in some—some corner of your mind, up there. But, no. First thing tomorrow I'm heading down to the hospital, and I'm coming back with options."
"... Options?" Aidan asked, feeling suddenly adrift in this conversation. "What, exactly, are we talking about, here?"
"The way I see it," Josh said, now on a roll, his eyes wider than normal and his good arm gesturing in the air, like he could form the plan tangibly in front of them, "It can't hurt to try different vaccines and booster shots at this point. Right?"
"Uh…" Aidan said, brow furrowing as he made a flippant gesture in the air. "Yeah, for argument's sake, okay. I suppose not. But, Josh—don't you think other vampires have tried that, already? Don't you think if it was as simple as getting a stim of antibiotics or taking a five-day trial of TamiFlu, someone would have spread that news by now?"
"Maybe, but maybe not." Josh was bordering on manic now, completely facing Aidan and forgetting to hide his wounded arm in his wild, energetic need to convince him of this plan. "You know better than anyone else how underhanded and self-serving your people can be. No offense," he tacked on, and Aidan actually did laugh out loud at that, unable to stop himself.
"None taken," he said, executing an ironic flourish of a half-bow. If Josh noticed how little Aidan was buying into this pipe dream, he didn't show it, instead barreling on.
"So, just—just, hear me out, okay? Hear me out. Say there is a way to fix this—and there is," he added, punctuating that word like he actually had some sort of insider info to share that was based on anything other than wild, delusional hope. "It wouldn't be so out of the realm of possibility that not all vampires who discovered a cure would want to share it, right? I mean, when there's less to compete with, those who remain wind up in positions of power. Right?"
It was far too late at night and Aidan was far too battered and tired to follow Josh's ramblings. He shook his head, already mentally disengaging, and looked out over the floor, longingly thinking about sweet unconsciousness that could be his in mere moments. He didn't jump when Josh touched his chin and made him face him again, but it was a close thing. Then he noticed that Josh was trembling.
"Josh—" Aidan said, alarmed now, and instinctively he put his hand over the one Josh had against the side of his face. "You—are you okay?" he asked, frowning and peering into his face, looking for cracks where the panic would start leaking out.
"I just, can't deal with this if you've already given up. If you're already gone." To Aidan's utmost surprise, Josh's voice broke on the last word and his hand jerked so hard Aidan almost thought he'd meant to hit him. But no, he was just shaking, and not with fear or cold. It was pure, desperate energy that was quaking through his roommate, demanding that he cook up these half-baked plans at three in the morning before it would let him free of its electric grasp. Aidan had seen Josh freaking out more times than he could possibly count, but never quite like this. Despair, fear, frustration had always been key ingredients before, and the man had usually preferred to curl in on himself, avoiding eye contact and riding it out in his own twitchy, distracted way.
It wasn't like this, never like this. Josh had both of his hands on either side of Aidan's face, keeping him there like he actually had the strength to force him if he needed to. Aidan was powerless to do anything but stare back, noting the way the brown eyes he knew so well had darkened over into a color he would have almost thought was his own. "You have to promise me, Aidan," Josh spoke, snapping Aidan out of another of his reveries, "That you have not already given up on me, on Sally, or Nora, on life, on any of this." He lowered one of his hands to gesture to the air between the two of them, the backs of his fingers actually brushing against Aidan's chest before the same hand reached forward and splayed itself, fingers flat, against Josh's own chest. "I know it's bleak. I know it's bad. But you have to promise me you won't go down without one hell of a fight."
Aidan knew the speech was supposed to be motivational, something to make him feel better. It didn't necessarily make him feel worse, either, though. It was an emotion that existed somewhere in limbo, and all Aidan could do was say what he knew Josh needed to hear. "Of course I'm open to ideas, man. I'm gonna do my best. Just like I know you're going to, for me." He put his hand back on the one that was still resting against Aidan's cheek and gave Josh a crooked, quirked smile. "Okay? You alright?"
"Drink me," Josh said.
"... Excuse me?" Aidan asked.
Mind cluing me in on that too, while you're at it? Josh's inner voice snarked.
Josh shook his head, still full of the pre-panic attack energy. Trying to keep his thoughts straight was a nightmare. Use your words. "Okay. Way I see it, you're… sick. It's sort of… negligible, at this point, to keep trying to find a clean supply. Right?"
"Yes, but, Josh, you're a—"
"Let," Josh interjected, his voice higher than he had wanted it to be. He lowered it and took a quick version of a 'slow, deep breath.' "Let me explain. I know I'm a wolf, but—just now, you said I don't smell like one yet. Right?" With that Josh moved closer, turning his neck to Aidan so he could verify it again.
The reaction was instantaneous. Aidan reeled back, putting as much distance between himself and Josh as possible as if Josh's neck would hurt him. Josh blanched and backed off, barely fighting off the urge to smell himself even though he had confirmed that he was immune to his own scent.
"Oh. I'm sorry, was I wrong? Did it just, like, kick in right now?"
"No," Aidan said, getting to his feet now and pacing the room.
"No?" Josh affirmed, also getting up but staying at his spot near the bed, watching Aidan's restless progress across the floor. "So, I don't smell like a dog yet?"
"No, Josh," Aidan said, turning to face him and whipping out the blinding sarcasm they used on each other when frustrated. "You smell peachy-keen. You smell great. You smell delicious. You also are rambling incessantly and not making any sense, so you are delusional if yuo think I'm going to drink your blood when you're like this."
"Ah—" Josh said, putting up a finger to pin down the piece of relevant information Aidan had let slip. "But that doesn't mean you won't ever drink my blood."
"Josh, what the hell? What are you hoping to achieve?" The last word sounded like a plaintive plea.
"I want to see if we can make you stronger!" Josh insisted, taking a step forward to invade Aidan's personal space but realizing his mistake and holding his ground at the last minute. "If you taste me, just a drop, and it's all—wolfy and disgusting, then, okay, didn't work. Now we know. But," he demanded, moving to keep pace with Aidan, who was now turning away from him to head to the other corner of the room, "If you try me, and it's fine, no wolf side-effects, then we can at least get you a steady source of food. Food, Aidan! God, how long has it been since you really, really fed?"
"Months, Josh! You know that! And do you know why? Because every single human this side of the equator has had that flu that's responsible for this!" He gestured to his body again, his movements erratic and—Josh only realized it now—angry. "You too! Even if your blood hasn't developed the taint that makes me sick yet, I'm still just drinking more and more infected blood. I don't see how, in your grand little scheme here, that helps anyone."
"It can't hurt you at this point, Aidan, and the benefit outweighs the risk. If you aren't strong, if you aren't eating regularly, you're just going to—"
He froze. It was not a simple clamp down on a word he didn't want to say. It was a full-bodied, mind, heart and soul freeze. Aidan caught it immediately and at once all the anger disappeared. Just like that, his best friend was back, eyes wide, brow low, edging closer to Josh to see if he was okay.
"Josh?" Aidan tried softly, and finally the dam broke and it all became real.
"You're going to die," Josh said, his voice breaking on the "to" and utterly gone before the last word of his statement. "If we don't—" he said, not doing much better at getting the life back in his words, which were reedy, rattling shadows of sentences. "If we don't try, don't keep you strong… you're just going to die faster, Aidan. Please."
Aidan was running at him and Josh didn't know why for a moment. Then he realized he'd sat down on the ground very suddenly, very hard. He'd been aiming for the bed, maybe, in some parallel universe, but had missed. Aidan was with him in a heartbeat, hand on his shoulder, facing his profile while Josh stared at the ground and tried not to implode.
"Okay," Aidan said, his voice calm and soothing now, the tone he used on Rebecca in the beginning when he needed to talk her down from ripping someone's face off. "Okay. I hear you, alright?" When Josh merely gave a twitch of a nod, it was Aidan's turn to turn his jaw so Josh was facing him. Josh stared at his face, unblinking, trying to descramble the visual input and redesign it into an image he understood. "I know you're just trying to help. And… you argue a pretty good case, I can't lie. I got it. I know what you're getting at and—" Aidan took in a breath, slower than Josh had, and held it for a while as if bracing himself for the high-dive. "... And I'll try it. Okay? So, just… calm down. We're going to try everything we can, just like you say."
"I'm not—" Josh said, not even sure what he was trying to say. His brain-to-mouth filter was long gone and what was coming out instead was a string of pure, unedited feeling. "I'm not trying to, I don't mean to guilt you, have a freak out panic attack session and get you to agree to this because you feel—" he let out a shrill, short laugh, then clamped down on it, not wanting to wake Sally. He tried again, striving for less insane. "Because you feel bad for me. Because this isn't about me. My condition won't kill me. We have a—a limited window of time and you are the focus, Aidan. It's you."
As he said it he looked back at him again, finally, able to brave the fiery spike pit death trap that was eye contact, something so terrifying to him when he was feeling this unhinged. Aidan was looking right back at him, dark eyes holding some kind of mix of sadness, worry and… something Josh couldn't pin down. He just recognized the reflection of the feeling because it was exactly where he was right now too.
"I know," Aidan said, still gentle, but no longer his "talking to crazy people" gentle. He settled down on the floor beside Josh, their sides touching as they numbly faced forward, and then, and only then, did the steel bar around Josh's middle release him a notch or two. He was able to take in a full breath for the first time in many long minutes and let his eyes slip shut, savoring it. If he'd thought firing off a full round into a werewolf to spring his battered vampire roomie out of a S&M torture prison had been exhausting, it was nothing compared to the emotional fallout that happened after.
"Just… one request, Josh," Aidan said, sounding as wretched and wrecked as Josh was. Josh rolled his head over to look at him, too tired to even lift it off the side of the bed where they were leaning.
Aidan's eyes were half-lidded and resigned, but not in a necessarily bad way. "I'm not feeding from you tonight. We need to sleep. And if your blood does poison me I'd rather do it tomorrow morning. Give the rest of this," he gestured to his bandaged, pummeled face, "time to heal a bit."
Josh could have made the argument that blood would help Aidan heal those injuries much faster, but the little cringe Aidan made when he adjusted the bandage over his swollen-shut eye made him reconsider. It also lit a brief, violent fire in his stomach that threatened to consume him if he so much as twitched, and Josh shook his head violently to beat it back down. Once Aidan was better they could focus on Liam, and revenge. And oh, would Josh ever focus then. For now he breathed in a few times through his nose, and apparently he looked like he was trying to stave off another episode, because Aidan sighed, said, "Case in point," and gently pulled the pair of them up to their feet. "You gonna be okay?"
"Dandy," Josh said, giving Aidan a thumbs up. "But yeah, your condition is reasonable. Probably a good idea. So. Yeah, sleep." Just because he was there, and Josh was there, and they were going to be getting pretty deep over the next few weeks, Josh pulled Aidan into a sudden, hard hug, something not meant to be warm and comforting, but life-affirming and jarring. There were no manly back-pats to take the emotional edge off the gesture. Josh buried his face in Aidan's shoulder and squeezed him for a good half a minute, not even paying attention to what Aidan was doing in return. When he finally disengaged he wasn't sure he'd make it upstairs before falling asleep mid-ascent. "Goodnight."
Josh turned and zombied his way to the stairwell, and it was only when he was more than halfway up that he barely caught the reply. "Goodnight, Josh."