Chapter Text
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”...and I hope / whatever is eating you alive does it as slowly as possible. / I know it doesn’t sound like it, / but this is a love poem, this is a love poem / this is a love poem / until it isn’t anymore.”
-Trista Mateer
It’s Guillermo who notices first that they are all relatively shit out of luck.
The wind continues to howl, punctuated now by the squawks and chitters of three bats in the midst of an argument. A lizard (gecko? Guillermo wasn’t sure what type of reptile Colin Robinson had turned into, only that he was grateful that the energy vampire couldn’t really feed while in animal form), meanwhile, chose to idly climb up one of the heavy drapes, looking as if he was tempted to try and eat one of the spiders that had made a cobweb near the end of the curtain rod.
All at once, the largest of the bats dissolves into a cloud of smoke, reappearing as a certain disheveled vampire. Nandor stomped his foot down, the frills of his white blouse jumping with the motion as he pointed at the reptile. “Colin Robinson, do not even think about it! You will not be eating the spider—don’t you have one of your internet webs to disturb for food?”
The lizard gives an obnoxiously long slow-blink, tongue darting out daringly towards the spider web, as if to say, “What’re you gonna do about it?” Guillermo was sure that if Colin was in his human form, he would be sporting a shit-eating grin at the visible rage on Nandor’s face.
With a hiss, Nandor rises towards the ceiling to pluck the lizard off the drapes, showing a rare measure of patience as he plops the energy vampire onto the sofa. When it came to animals—even annoying vampire housemates masquerading as animals—it was clear that Nandor had an unguarded soft spot. Not that Guillermo has much room to talk; he had let a vampiric assassin into the house just because they had disguised themselves as a cute little squirrel.
“No eating the spiders! That is final!”
Colin reverts to his human form, adjusting his spectacles and brown cardigan with a frown. “Geeze, no need to get handsy, Nandor. I wasn’t actually going to eat a spider. That would be gross.”
Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a loud thump as one of the other bats collides headlong into the closed window. Laszlo reappears on the floor with a groan, cradling his head. Nadja is at his side a moment later, pale fingers brushing soothingly through his dark curls.
“He is starting to see things,” Nadja supplies, a rare look of unguarded concern in her gaze. “Sometimes I forget how young Laszlo is compared to us.”
Nandor’s lips pull into a worried grimace. “Will he be alright?”
“So long as he does not try and sneak out in the middle of the day…” Nadja trails, suddenly unsure. “This is different from when Colin Robinson tried to drain us to death.”
“Not to death,” the energy vampire interjects. “I admit, I got a bit overzealous at the end there, but—“
Nadja ignores him. “He’s never had to deal with controlling his hunger like this. If he doesn’t eat Guillermo, I’m worried he will fly out, weak and malnourished, and get lost in a snowdrift.”
“Well, he can’t eat Guillermo,” Nandor replies quickly.
A small, pleased smile flits across Guillermo’s face. “Thank you—“
“Because who will protect us from the Vampiric Council if Guillermo dies?”
Guillermo deflates immediately.
With a tired sigh, the only living human in the house slips out of the room. “I’m going to go take a nap. Please don’t kill me—or each other—while I’m asleep.”
He doesn’t wait for their response, letting the door to the library close behind him with enough force to rattle the hinges.
“Fucking ungrateful vampires…” he mutters to himself, knowing full well that they could all probably hear him. He was long past the point of caring.
The hours stretched into days, which stretched into mind-numbing weeks huddled together in front of the fireplace—and still, the snowstorm raged on. It was disturbing just how quickly the storm uprooted the vampires’ feeding habits—how quickly it seemed that they grew too weak to manage hunting on their own.
Guillermo had tried on multiple occasions to try and find edible humans—because even on the edge of supposed starvation, his vampires were still picky eaters—but the only options within walking distance were, unfortunately, their neighbors. And ever since the animal control incident with Laszlo, neighbors had been firmly removed from the possible pool of potential victims.
In other words, aside from Colin Robinson, who had managed to keep up with his own dietary demands through accidentally joining random Zoom meetings, the rest of the household was suffering under the weight of multiple meters of snow. Even Guillermo’s pantry of canned goods and other non-perishables was slowly dwindling away in the face of being unable to brave a trip to the grocery store, the snow and ice making it impossible to travel further than what he could manage on foot.
And, to make matters worse, the vampires, as hungry and irritated as they were, had now taken to bickering over the smallest of issues. It was driving Guillermo near mad. On more than one occasion he had to stop himself before he staked one of the vampires, his Van Helsing blood boiling at being stuck indefinitely in a house full of vampires that apparently had no qualms pushing Guillermo’s buttons despite knowing how easily he could kill them. Hence, something had to be done.
Guillermo knew of at least one solution to their woes—albeit a temporary one—but it wasn’t exactly easy for him to suggest it. Especially since it was Laszlo who was clearly affected the most by the lack of a steady blood supply.
I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this, Guillermo thinks, rolling up his left sleeve.
The arguing between the three vampires dissipates immediately.
“Laszlo,” Guillermo grits out, fighting the urge to reach for the stake in his back pocket with his right hand, “You can have some of my blood, but I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t stop when I tell you to stop.”
Laszlo regards him for a moment as he always does—with a clear look of uninterest and, at worst, blatant disapproval. But then, almost imperceptibly, something in the vampire’s face shifts. It looks like gratitude, or perhaps a flicker of admiration, but it’s gone before Guillermo can dissect it further.
“Are you sure about this… Giz—I mean, Guillermo?”
It’s the first and only time Laszlo has ever addressed Guillermo by his real name. Not even the night of the theatre had roused such respect. He’d called him chap, sure, and heaped on other words of praise, but he had never said his name. Guillermo is happier about this then he thinks he has any reason to be, given how horridly the man has treated him over the years.
“Unfortunately… yeah, I’m sure.”
“You do not need to be doing this, Guillermo,” Nandor says, voice pitched in obvious concern. It reminds Guillermo of when he was working for Celeste—only this time what Guillermo is doing is decidedly more high-stakes than performing an interpretive dance for a woman pretending to be a vampire.
“I know. Trust me, I really wish there was another option, but…” he trails, shrugging. “I’ve already devoted more than a decade of my life to all of you. What’s a few pints of blood at this point?”
“Guillermo is right,” Nadja pipes up, smoothing out the ruffles in her skirts. “Giving blood is often a familiar’s job.”
Nandor frowns. “But Guillermo is no longer a familiar.” He turns to look at Guillermo again, expression softening. “I have still been treating you like one, and I am sorry for that.”
Nadja’s eyes widen at the apology while Laszlo merely sighs.
“We get it, Gizmo is more than a familiar—he’s our human housemate, blah, blah, blah. Can I have a nibble or not?”
“Definitely not if you’re going to call it that,” Guillermo mutters, approaching Laszlo with obvious trepidation. “Remember what I said—stop when I say stop. Or—“
The vampire waves a hand. “I’ll be penetrated to death.”
Guillermo pales at the comment. “...Could you please just call it being staked to death?”
“What’s wrong with penetrate?”
Nadja nods along, flashing a fanged grin. “I like the word penetrate.”
Nandor, blessedly, swats at the both of them. “Stop it, you perverts! Guillermo is about to give his blood and this is how you repay him?”
Laszlo raises a brow salaciously. “We can repay him another way, if you’d like.”
And that’s where Guillermo loses his patience. He pinches his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and sticks his arm out. “Laszlo, just bite me already before I change my mind.”
The vampire shrugs. “Fair enough. Hold still, old chap.”
True to his word, Laszlo doesn’t go overboard. In fact, to the obvious surprise of the other vampires in the room, Laszlo pulls away without even needing to be prompted, blood staining his lips and chin.
He gives Guillermo an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Right. Thanks for that.”
Guillermo nods, unclenching his fist. The twin pinpricks bleed sluggishly but before he can and get the first-aid supplies in the bathroom, Nandor is already making a beeline towards him, the wide, teal first-aid kit held carefully in his hands.
“I can do it myself—“
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you can,” Nandor cuts in with a clearly patronizing tone. “But I am an immortal warrior—I have bandaged many wounds in the past. Let a professional take care of this.”
“Oh, so you are a doctor now, Mr. Village Conquerer?” Nadja snaps, folding her arms over her chest. “I thought you were a pigshit housemate that spent his human life setting beautiful cities on fire!”
“She has a point,” Laszlo agrees, folding a comforting arm around his wife’s waist.
Nandor groans. “Nadja, I thought we were over this! I apologized already—“
“No you didn’t,” Nadja quips back with a hiss.
“I did.”
“No you fucking didn’t!”
At Guillermo’s disappointed look, Nandor sighs, obviously resisting the urge to roll his eyes before he speaks. “Fine. I’m sorry for having burned your village down ages ago. I shouldn’t have done that.”
A triumphant smile spreads across Nadja’s face. “See, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?”
“Eughh…” Nandor trails, turning to Guillermo. He pantomimes the cutting of bandages. “Are you ready for me to cut some band-aids for you?”
Guillermo looks at him curiously. “You don’t need to cut anything, Nandor. The band-aids are wrapped individually.”
“Oh,” the vampire nods. “I see. I thought they were still sold as rolls.”
“When was the last time you used a band-aid to cover a wound?”
Nandor rubs his chin in thought. “Ah… that would have to be around 1923. I saw a child fall on a slippy bit of ice so I went into the store and got him a roll of band-aids for the cut on his face.”
“That was very kind of you,” Guillermo replies, smiling warmly.
Nandor quickly averts his gaze. Clearing his throat, he reaches for Guillermo’s arm, gently draping it over his lap. The first-aid kit opens with a click and the vampire busies himself with picking the right sized band-aid for the wound. Nandor applies the band-aid with little difficulty, but lingers all the same, thumb rubbing briefly against the fragile, visible network of blue veins in Guillermo’s inner wrist.
It’s only at Guillermo’s questioning, flushed look that Nandor pulls away, letting Guillermo’s arm fall away from him.
“Do you… do you need blood too?” Guillermo asks, fiddling with the sleeve that covered his uninjured wrist. The thought of Nandor drinking his blood stirs an entirely different feeling than it did with Laszlo. He can feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest, though it’s not out of fear. Guillermo would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that there had always been a part of him that seemingly longed for the touch of Nandor’s fangs against his skin. More than eleven years at the vampire’s side and, despite it all, he had never really been in the position to offer his blood willingly until now. It was both a dream and a nightmare come to life, given the circumstances.
Nandor immediately clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head, paling. He leaves the room before Guillermo can even thank him for bandaging the wound.
I guess I’m just not up to Nandor’s standards, Guillermo thinks bitterly, unable to scrub the memory of the nauseous look on Nandor’s face from his mind even as he settled into his bed to sleep.