Chapter Text
Glenn's blood is more acidic than Darryl's.
Not something that Henry ever thought he would learn about his friends, but as the two of them lean against a tree together, Henry bandaging Glenn's wrist where he had been drinking from, he feels the pile of things in his mind that he does not want to address learning begin to teeter. "How are you feeling?"
Glen swings his head over with a grin and flashes Henry a thumbs up. The air is chilly, late night gone early morning, and Henry savors the line of warmth where their shoulders press together. Glenn pulls a blunt out of his pocket and lights up, offers it to Henry who accepts. They are a bit away from the Odyssey, in their own bubble, and it is nice to feel like nothing else exists.
The sky begins to lighten above them, and Henry settles in to watch his favorite show, the ways that the indigo of night gives way to pale greens and yellows. The dazzling masses of constellations are beginning to fade, and the exhale of smoke disappears like fog in the morning air.
Then, a burning, like the pleasant glow of smoke in his lungs is moving onto his skin and lighting it up, a slow and subtle itch at first until it hurts, and Henry grits his teeth to keep any noise from escaping but Glenn still notices. "Shit, man, you're smoking!"
Henry wants to make a joke back, so are you or thanks for noticing but it hurts and he realizes that he actually is smoking, that his skin is starting to go papery as the sky lightens and wisps of char rises up from it. Glenn throws his leather jacket over him, pulls him up and starts dragging him back to the Odyssey, mumbling something about that's the big vampire thing, shit, and Henry follows, tripping over his feet.
Of course this would be taken away from him too.
A handful of nights after Henry first drank Darryl's blood, the two of them find themselves alone together again, on an after dinner walk a bit out from where they have set camp. Conversation is simple, but the question that has been swirling around Henry's mind finds its way bubbling to the surface, unavoidable. There's guilt to it, the same guilt that tinges everything connected to his newfound existence as a vampire, but there's also a hope that he hasn't been able to tamp down.
There is a lull in the conversation, Darryl pausing with hands on hips to look up at the sky with an expression of concentration. Got to do it at some point, Henry thinks, and takes the leap.
"About the other night, when I…" Henry trails off, not having thought this far ahead. He doesn't want to say sucked your blood, it feels too vulgar, too pulpy, but it's not like the other options are much better.
Darryl catches on quick. "Drank me like a juice box?"
Henry cringes at the phrasing, but nods. At least he doesn't have to say it. "Yeah, well, after that-"
"Oh shoot, do you need some more?" Darryl is already rolling up his sleeve, and Henry catches sight of the bruise on his wrist. It's just starting to yellow, and Darryl flexes his fingers. "It aches a bit, but it’s not too bad. Actually, might be better if you chomped the other one this time?"
"Wait- I don’t want to hurt you."
"And I don’t want you to starve, it’s all good. Besides." Darryl looks away, a twist of his mouth like he doesn't want to admit it. "I kind of liked it. Not in a weird way or anything, it just made me feel nice and kind of fuzzy around the edges-"
"That’s kind of what I wanted to talk about," Henry says, pulling at his twine bracelet so he doesn’t have to address how the sight of Darryl's bare wrists is making his mouth water. "Do you remember what you said after?"
"Not really?” Darryl scrunches his face in thought, then shrugs. “I was kind of out of it."
Henry purses his lips, not sure how to go about this. "You asked if I wanted to kiss you."
Darryl’s eyes go wide, and his face is redder than Henry has ever seen it, even after the first time they had kissed. “Shoot, I- I’m sorry bud, I shouldn’t’ve done that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s-“ Henry cuts himself off before he can say just how much he would have liked it. Darryl’s hand runs through his hair, tugging, nervous, and neither of them seem able to make eye contact. “This is not a question you’ve gotta answer but.” He exhales, remembers Mercedes’s voice reminding him that open communication is key. “Is that something you would still be interested in?”
Darryl freezes, deer in the headlights, eyes shining in the glow of the moon. He swallows, flexes his large hands. “What would you do if I said yes?”
Henry can feel the jump in Darryl’s pulse like it is his own. “Well, I’d tell you that I am also interested in, uh, revisiting that.” Darryl still looks unsure, and Henry rushes out “I would also like to kiss you, yes.”
There is a moment where the words hang in the air between them, truth out in the open but neither quite sure how to move forward, and so Henry takes a step towards Darryl, and Darryl puts a hand on his waist to draw him in closer. It is warm, even through the cotton of Henry's shirt, and he lets himself be pulled flush.
Darryl is blushing, all that blood flushed and right at the surface, and Henry doesn't know if the coiling in his gut is hunger or want and so he presses his lips to Darryl's, putting a hand on the back of his neck to hold him in place. Darryl gasps at the touch of lips, seemingly still surprised that it is actually happening, but it doesn't stop him from kissing back. His lips are chapped and there's the light scratch facial hair and Henry kisses him harder, hand tightening, desperate for more.
Without thought, he walks Darryl back until he is pressed against a tree, nowhere else to go but kiss and be kissed, and Darryl opens his mouth to Henry, warm and wet and already panting like he hasn't gotten kissed like this in years, and Henry wants to devour him.
He slides his tongue into Darryl's mouth, gives as good as he gets, bites Darryl's lip when it ends up between his teeth, swallows the gasp and the hand tightening on his hip, pulling him closer. There is the taste of blood and Henry hums, bites back a moan, doesn't want to let that disrupt the kiss but can't disentangle the two, the press of lips against his and the tang of copper on his tongue and everything inside him screaming for more.
Darryl is panting against him, making soft noises as he kisses and lets himself be kissed, and Henry pulls away, just enough that he can kiss down to his throat, rub his cheek against the scruff before brushing his lips against the thin, tender skin. He can practically taste the blood thrumming underneath and it is burning him up, dropping him into a hot tub after getting frostbite, lips burning but it isn't enough.
He knows better than to bite, knows that he should keep things separate, that he shouldn't take advantage of a blanket invitation, but Henry can't stop himself from letting his teeth glance against skin, not enough to break it but enough to make Darryl shiver, enough to make him whine and clap a hand over his mouth. Henry sucks on the skin, leaving a mark, using every ounce of self control that he has to keep from biting down even as Darryl is shaking against him and it would be so easy, wouldn't it, he wonders what noises he would make then, how he would bare his throat for more, and-
Henry pulls away with a gasp, covering his mouth with a hand, biting down on his palm to let the pain ground him.He got carried away, far too carried away, he has to be more responsible when it comes to this, but it's hard when Darryl is in front of him, eyes glassy, pinned against the tree with one hand still reaching out for Henry, taking shuddering breaths through kissed-red lips.
"I'm sorry, I-" Henry looks away when he sees the trickle of blood from where he bit his lip, the nauseated flip in his stomach at how close things got to going wrong. "Are you okay?"
Darryl blinks a couple times, and Henry balls his hands into fists. He doesn't know if his vampire spit has weird properties, or if he has a coercive glamor, or whatever nonsense about vampires is actually true, but he can already feel the reasons for why he should blame himself lining up one after the other. "That was-" Darryl lets out a small laugh. "Yes, Henry, I'm okay, that was great." He looks back at Henry, who doesn't want to know what he sees. "Are you okay?"
"No, I-" Henry crosses his arms, recrosses them the other way. "I went too far, and I shouldn't have done that, and I got way too close to biting you and I don't know if I'm magically compelling you to be fine with it but I don't think that you should be this fine with all of it, I'm not enough in control and I have to be-"
His arms are tight around himself when Darryl reaches an arm out. "Can I?" Henry nods, feels himself enveloped in a giant bear hug, and the weight is a comfort around him, trapped and safe like his weighted blanket at home. It's tight enough that he doesn't know if he would have been able to break out of it back when he was alive, and that is a reassurance. "I don't know if there's any magic involved, but I did like it, so." Henry feels the shrug of shoulders where Darryl is holding him. "I'm a grown man, trust me when I say I like it and that I'll tell you if I don't?"
Henry can feel Darryl's heart racing through his chest, buries his face in the warmth of his chest. His arms are still crossed tight against his ribs, but he feels them loosen, just a bit. It doesn't feel that simple, the way Darryl lays it out. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I've fought worse than you," Darryl muses. "Don't count me out too fast." His arms are still around Henry, safe and secure, and Henry wishes he could believe him.