Chapter Text
Laszlo leans back in his chair, smoking his pipe, his other hand tapping the armrest anxiously. Nadja sits beside him tending to some Vampiric Council business, wearing those sexy librarian glasses he loves so much. Usually his response to seeing his beloved looking so delicious, and indeed, doing her best to ignore him, would be to attempt a seduction. Tonight, however, he has something else on his mind.
Laszlo Cravensworth does not get nervous, and he most certainly does not feel shame. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have… reservations, about certain things. He’s a hot-blooded and hot-bodied fucking machine. He doesn’t usually need to ask for what he wants; countless chaps and chap-esses and everything in between would just let him take it. It’s fucking annoying when he does need to ask. It makes him antsy, makes him feel less like the sex god he is. He doesn’t care for it.
He huffs out through his nose and takes the pipe away from his mouth, furrowing his brow when it clicks against his teeth due to his unsteady hand. Nadja must notice this, because without looking up she simply says “Not tonight, darling, I have a headache and I’m washing my hair and I have to have an alibi for when the big wigs find Nandor’s stupid fucking body after I strangle him to death with my own hair.”
He lets out a hoarse laugh, relaxing at that. He does so love her sense of humour, finds her completely adorable when she threatens their housemates’ lives. He pauses, watching her work, and reminds himself that she has seen his penis, so there is nothing she could possibly judge him for.
He takes a breath, sits up straight, and begins.
“My darling, I’ve been thinking-”
“That’s new.” She says it with no real malice, it’s simply how she is. Cutthroat. Mean. Sexy. He wouldn’t have her any other way.
He continues, unphased, “I’ve been thinking, and I… You know, on days like today- And other days- Fucking hell.” He puts his head in his hands and hears a soft clatter, signalling that Nadja has taken her glasses off and placed them on the table.
Shit.
He’d forgotten how perceptive she was. He should’ve known if he stumbled over his words like this, she’d grow concerned and give him her full attention. It’s too intense. He clears his throat and uncovers his face, leaning back in his chair once again. She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow. She’s not fucking buying it.
“What is it you’re trying to tell me, Laszlo?”
Think, old chap. Think, think, think.
“I want… I’d quite like it if I could be… You know, a dolly. A hen. A babe, a beauty, a belle-”
“Laszlo.”
“A damsel, a wifey, a moll-”
“Laszlo, darling, shut the fuck up for a second.”
“A rag-time gal, even.”
“Guillermo, I need to borrow one of your stakes!”
He grins and pounces on her, covering her mouth (getting lipstick all over his hand in the process) just as Gizmo walks in. The familiar/bodyguard/catgirl maid or whatever the fuck, simply sighs. “Guys, I’ve told you before, I’m not letting you use my weapons for sex stuff!”
Laszlo scoffs. “As if, you little pervert, I’m not burning my cock off trying to use holy water as sexual lubricant. Off you fuck.” He makes a dismissive hand gesture and turns back to Nadja, flinching back when a stake embeds itself into the couch between their heads. Nadja gasps loudly, then bares her teeth and hisses at him.
“Oh, Nandor will be hearing about this, you piece of shit! You could’ve killed us!”
“Cheeky bastard.” Laszlo mutters, flipping Guillermo off as he swaggers out of the room, smug as ever.
Nadja hisses again, quieter this time, more for her benefit than Guillermo’s; the vampire equivalent of getting the last word in the argument. Fuck, he loves her so much.
She turns towards him again and moves her paperwork onto the desk beside her glasses, petting her lap. He obediently shifts so that he’s laying on the couch, resting his head on her thighs. They do this sometimes when he’s having a particularly challenging day, or engaging in sexual roleplay where he plays a depressed man. Either way, he always adores it more than he cares to admit. The feel of her hands combing ever-so-gently through his hair, her talons lightly scratching his scalp in just the right way to make him groan and fidget and forget all of his woes.
She does this now, humming under her breath, the way she knows will have him melting under her, all the tension leaving his body. Tonight she hums one of the songs he wrote. He feels his cheeks flush, and begins fidgeting with his rings. Nadja knows more than anyone ever will that Laszlo Cravensworth is not immune to being flustered by small acts of kindness. Especially from her.
She finishes the verse of the song and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead, surely leaving a mark with what was left of her lipstick. “Now, my big strong bear, where were we?” She runs the tips of her fingers down his left cheek, then cradles the nape of his neck, still stroking his hair with her other hand. “You’d like to try being my ‘good lady wife’, is that it?”
Nadja cackles at her own impression of his voice. He takes the opportunity, whilst her head is thrown back in laughter, to look at her as though she hung the moon in the sky.
To him, she just did.
She looks down again and he averts his gaze in a way that is definitely not bashful, he was clearly just checking out her bosoms, it’s a nice view from down here- Then he coughs and nods, trying to figure out how to talk again. He can’t find the words, and that is not like him. It’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he can feel himself getting mugged off over it. Thankfully Nadja reads his mind as though mind control wasn’t his niche.
“You’ve done enough talking, my sweet little lamb. Time to let me take over,” She strokes a thumb over his cheek and coos, “My darling wife. My cinnamon twist, my big belladonna.” There are other words then, in her native tongue, and Laszlo slips his eyes closed. He doesn’t need to know what she’s saying; he knows it feels right.
Then there’s a hand playing with the hair at the back of his neck, tickling him, making him squirm and grunt “Fuck off,” in a way that just means I love you I love you I love you.
Nadja continues.
“I think when I tell Nandor of the human’s unbelievable insubordination, I will also tell him that my wife… She is very brave.”
Laszlo cracks a toothy smile at that. Nadja won’t actually tell Nandor about this, she’s just testing out the pronouns on him. He likes it. Or… she likes it.
“She is so very very brave,” Nadja adds “ And so very beautiful. I would kill for her, and I would die for her, but I know that she would never make me.”
She places a hand very deliberately on Laszlo’s chest. “My wife, she protects me. She knows that she doesn’t need to, but it is one of the only ways she can truly show her love. That and the love-making.”
Nadja pauses, and when Laszlo opens one eye and peers up at her she looks almost… worried?
She continues hesitantly. “I find it funny sometimes. The way she insists on protecting me. I think… I think maybe she is the one who needs protecting.”
Laszlo’s other eye opens, and she goes to sit up, to dissuade this notion, to start swearing and swinging her dick around like she always does when things get too serious. Nadja has thought ahead. She’s putting all of her vampire strength into the hand on Laszlo’s chest. Laszlo couldn’t sit up without hurting her, and Laszlo would never hurt her.
At least, not in a way they hadn’t previously discussed.
“My precious nevastă , you were scared to bring this to me. Why?” Her voice softens, and Laszlo’s heart pangs as he hears the underlying message. Did you think I’d stop loving you?
“I… You know I’ve been spending a lot of time with Shaunie lately. He’s a good bloke, but the way some of the other lads in his friend group talk about women… It’s like the idea of being ladylike or feminine is…” He shrugs, trying not to let any emotion seep in, “Like it’s bad.”
Nadja hisses. “I say we eat them. Fucking pricks.”
“Oi, I won’t hear a bad word said about Shaunie. He’s a stand-up guy, and he’s not too bad on the old peepers either. He’s changed, I’m sure the others will too, I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t like work. It’s work to convince them it’s alright to be like me.”
His voice goes quiet near the end and Nadja holds him tightly, smoothing her thumb over his chest right where the scars would be if he were shirtless.
“Of course it is, my beautiful bear. Of course it is. I’m so proud of you.”
They sit in silence after that; no more words need to be said. The sun will rise soon, so they will need to move to their coffins when it does. Laszlo will get up first, gruff and masculine again as he’s not yet ready to share this part of him with the rest of the house. Nadja will take it in stride, accepting the hand he offers to help her up, giggling when he brings it up to his lips and kisses it, knowing it means thank you. She will curtsy back at him as if to say always, and the two of them will head upstairs to their room and try to get a good day’s sleep despite Colin’s ‘morning routine’ and Guillermo’s constant fussing over the dust their coffins collect (“How is it possible for something that shakes so much to be so dusty?!”).
When Laszlo wakes up, Nadja will already be at work. He will spend the day with Colin or Shaun, not willing to be a third wheel in whatever bullshit Nandor and Gizmo are getting up to that day. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll tie his hair up into a messy bun, paint his nails a colour other than black, something like that.
Baby steps.