Work Text:
Request from anon on Tumblr: okay okay okay i was rereading blood and whiskey and can we please have more shayne and elliot snarking at each other with no actual heat behind it? just bros being bros? 🍄
___
“No, no, no, wait!” Elliott screamed, slamming the brakes and making the wheels of the truck spin in the shallow blanket of snow on the road. He watched as Shayne slipped out of the passenger seat, reaching to close the door behind him before the truck had even fully stopped. “What the fuck are you d-?”
Slam.
Elliott briefly gripped the bridge of his nose from beneath his sunglasses. He waited a moment for the flash of pain - agitated by the sudden, intense, annoyed-ness - to pass.
The day wasn’t going well, to say the least.
Not only had his head and his muscles been aching since morning, Elliott knew that if he’d asked someone to check, they’d have confirmed he was burning up. Yet again. The last thing he wanted was to be driving on treacherously isolated roads in the snow, dealing with the white glare from both the ground and the sky, but Shayne had been so nervous asking for this favour that Elliott knew it must have been important.
He had a bad feeling in his gut, though, that this was a bad idea; however, as stubborn as Elliott often prided himself on being, he wasn’t about to start questioning Shayne’s logic or lecturing him on things he knew very little about.
It was still disturbing, to watch his cousin leap from the car and start chasing something through the snow-laden forest - something that Elliott couldn’t even see.
Elliott parked the truck a little further on, though if it had been two minutes or ten before he found somewhere to pull in off the road, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. He considered leaving his sunglasses on the dash, but a swirl of nausea rose in his throat at the thought of facing the glare without them.
Once Elliott left the truck, tracking Shayne was surprisingly similar to hunting an animal for its blood, and perhaps the thought occupied his mind a little too much as he crunched the snow and looped through the trees. He hadn’t fed from the vein in weeks, and he’d been careful with the supply at home.
A little too careful, perhaps, considering how quickly his energy sapped and how sluggish his movements were by the time he stumbled across his cousin.
Shayne was kneeling on the the ground and making some horrible, guttural sounds that made Elliott freeze to the spot and turn away again, a kind of otherworldly dread coming over him. As much as his curiosity made him want to turn his head and take another look, he just couldn’t. The forest seemed to tip on its side until he rested a hand against the bark of a tree to steady himself.
A hollow pang in his stomach had his other hand gripping at his belly, and he blinked harshly behind his sunglasses, willing all of it to just go away.
He frowned when he heard the soft sound of snow being crushed, but by then Shayne had already walked past him, in the general direction they’d come from, hands in his pockets and head down.
Elliott shook off the wooziness and attempted to let his feet fall into his own earlier footsteps, to make sure he was going in a straight line and not veering to the left as he felt in danger of doing.
Shayne came to a stop and seemed to curl into himself slightly. Elliott squinted against the glare of the snow as he halted, too, leaning forward slightly to try to see his cousin’s face.
“Hey, man, are you –?”
“Don’t.”
Elliott straightened and rubbed at the back of his own neck. He was definitely overheating, judging by the slick of sweat along the collar of his shirt. “Jesus, I was only asking –”
“Well, like I said, don’t.”
“Alright.”
Elliott frowned as his eyes fell to the ground, at the fading trail of footprints; the falling snow had already covered up the prints he’d left behind, and he couldn’t even see any left behind by Shayne.
He could feel something hot and uneasy rising up into his throat, something that thrummed along with the quickening beat of his heart. Lord, he was hot; he realised the falling snowflakes were melting in the air before they could get anywhere near his face.
“Don’t get mad,” he said, fighting the nervous laughter in his chest.
“What?” Shayne snapped. His face was drained of all colour when he looked over, and the back of his hand was hovering near his mouth.
“I forget which way brings us back to the truck.”
“So?” Shayne lowered his arm and swung it in Elliott’s direction. “Can’t you turn into a bat, or some shit? Fly up and do some recon?”
“You seriously think all vampires can just turn into bats?” Elliott scowled as he paced ahead, glancing in every direction as though one of these trees would somehow call out to him and jog his memory. “It’s a common misconception, but I expected better from you.”
Shayne shrugged as he sluggishly trudged after Elliott. “It’d be handy, that’s all I’m saying.”
“You shutting up and letting me think; that would be handy.”
Elliott glanced over his shoulder, expecting to get the middle finger for that. Instead, Shayne was almost doubled over, letting out a whimper that wouldn’t have even been audible if Elliott hadn’t had highly sensitive hearing.
Elliott sighed, touching a hand to his head as it pounded. His view of the dark tree trunks rising up out of the blanket of snow blurred slightly, and he felt a tingle in his jaw and his gums. Fuck, he thought.
“Fuck,” Shayne hissed.
Elliott blinked away the dizzy spell and looked back at Shayne. “What, Shayne?” he grunted, any sympathy for the boy paling in view of how awful he was feeling himself.
Shayne huffed out a cloud of white condensation as he straightened and continued following, a few steps behind. “Nothing.”
“Oh, sure.” Elliott nodded and pushed his sunglasses up his nose; the sheen of sweat was making them slide out of place. “You simply enjoy blurting out profanities with no reason or context?”
“Mmm.”
Elliott blew a slow breath out through his lips as he looked ahead again, still trying to focus on recalling the way back; though he could hear Shayne’s teeth rattling in his skull despite his attempts to clench them.
“Cold?” Elliott ventured, grateful for a distraction from the mess that was his own body and head. He glanced back yet again, slowing his pace to let Shayne fall into step with him.
Shayne frowned in defiance. “M-maybe a bit.”
“If you think this is cold, you’d never hack it as a vampire,” Elliott told him. “Maybe not even as a half-vamp.”
Shayne’s eyes practically shot daggers. “Uh, try swallowing a snow demon and th-then get back to me.”
“Did you just say snow demon?”
“Mmm, they – they can sometimes absorb stuff from their, like, environment,” Shayne murmured.
“And that’s science right there, is it?”
“F-fuck, I don’t know, do I?” Shayne snapped. “All I know is it’s l-like a block of fucking ice just sitting in my stomach.”
Elliott shook his head and watched his cousin try his best not to keep curling forward. He knew exactly how he felt; he, too, would have enjoyed nothing more than curling up and waiting for relief to come.
“If it’s so bad, why’d you drag me all the way out here for this? I thought you were – you know, not doing this anymore.”
“I don’t have to explain shit to y-you,” Shayne mumbled.
“Right.”
“And if you hadn’t forgotten where you p-parked your sh-shitty truck, we’d be halfway back to town by - by now.”
“Learn to drive, asshole, and you’ll be free of me.”
A chunk of anxiety lodged in Elliott’s throat at this; he certainly shouldn’t have forgotten where he’d left the truck. He should not have fucked this up. He should have given a fairer response than that; Shayne hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to learn how to drive growing up.
Shayne grunted something incoherent, letting himself fall a step or two behind again.
“Relax, man, I was kidding.” Elliott rubbed at his head again and gave a helpless sigh of relief; his palm was cool, but the skin above his eyebrows was practically steaming. He looked back to see Shayne clinging desperately to his own shoulders.
“Listen,” Elliott sighed. “I’m not cold.”
Shayne shuddered. “Good for you.”
“That wasn’t a brag.” Elliott rolled his eyes. “I was going to suggest –”
“Don’t. Don’t suggest anything, just fuck off.”
“Fine,” Elliott snapped, “keep shivering like a lost kitten.”
Shayne tugged the zipper of his jacket a little higher, even though it had already hit the end of the leather collar. He folded his arms tighter around himself, hoping to counteract the fact that his entire body felt like it had been riddled with icy little puncture wounds.
The self-hug had a double purpose now; his belly was starting to feel like it was being covered in spreading frost. The pain was not the worst he’d ever felt, but it was certainly different. Scary. It was hard to focus on anything else.
That was, until he heard a solid thump and looked up to see that Elliott had just fallen down in the snow, practically on his face.
“E-El?” Shayne’s arms fell numbly to his side as he caught up, hovering helplessly as Elliott pressed his hands into the snow and pushed himself up. Shayne crouched down to help, but found his hands slapped away.
“C-come on,” Shayne breathed, “this isn’t fucking funny.”
“Not a joke,” Elliott growled. His sunglasses had dropped off in the snow, but he didn’t seem to have the strength or concentration to pick them up. Instead, he slumped back against a tree trunk, cradling his head in both hands.
Shayne hadn’t noticed the beads of sweat standing on Elliott’s forehead before. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed how out of place it had been for Elliott to mention he was feeling warm.
“I haven’t –” Elliott sighed towards his knees. “I haven’t been drinking enough fresh blood, I suppose.”
Still crouched close-by and clutching his own waist, Shayne shook his head. “That’s b-bad, right?”
“At this stage of my transformation, yes, it’s bad.” Elliott scrubbed his hands over his face before they lost all of their energy and flopped down into his lap.
Shayne unhooked one arm from around his waist and unceremoniously pressed the back of his hand against Elliott’s face. He snapped it back again straight away, eyes widening.
“Jesus, fuck, El. Are you k-kidding me right now?”
“I know, I’m an idiot,” Elliott murmured. He was fighting to keep enough tension in his jaw to keep speaking, when all it wanted to do was fall slack. “I’ve been feeling so nauseous lately; I couldn’t bring myself to drink, let alone hunt.”
“Too r-right, you’re an idiot.” Shayne gulped, knowing exactly how Elliott felt. “Wh-what do we do?”
“Nothing,” Elliott said, a shaky hand going to the ground. The snow glistened and melted around his fingers, fogging the air slightly. “We have to – we have to keep going –”
Shayne winced and rolled his eyes as Elliott attempted to push himself up from the ground, but barely succeeded in bracing his shoulders before slumping back against the tree trunk, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Shayne was under no illusion that he could even help Elliott to his feet; not under good circumstances, and certainly not now, when it felt like a hundred shards of ice were churning in his stomach and shooting out towards his limbs.
“F-fuck that. What ha-happens if you drink half-human blood?”
“Nothing really, just – Ryan loses her shit,” Elliott scoffed.
“Sh-she’s gonna do that a-anyway,” Shayne assured him, “if she f-finds out what we’re d-doing.”
Elliott blinked slowly, the white glare dizzying. He had that bad feeling in his gut again – one besides the sudden and intense craving for blood – as his vision adjusted and he saw Shayne kneeling down in the snow in front of him, no longer able to keep his shoulders from trembling or his teeth from chattering. The dark circles under his eyes were turning a deep navy, and the rest of his face seemed to be paling towards a shade of grey.
“What are you doing, man?”
“You don’t g-get to be a p-princess right now,” Shayne half-scoffed, sinking down into the snow so that he was half-leaning between Elliott’s knees. “Haven’t forgotten y-your little h-half-and-half joke.”
“No, nuh-uh, you – you already look like you’re going to pass out.” Elliott sank back a little as Shayne tried to get closer, though he could already feel a clawing in his gums that told him he didn’t have much strength left to resist. “Your lips are blue.”
Shayne was pulling down the zip of his jacket and shrugging stiffly to expose the right side of his neck. His lips pulled back over his teeth as his breath clouded the air. “K-keep me w-warm, then.”
Elliott let out a shaky sigh as he shuffled forward again, pulling Shayne closer so that the younger boy’s back was against his stomach and chest. His concern for himself wavered again when he felt the cold that practically pulsated from between Shayne’s trembling shoulder blades.
He pulled his legs in tight, and was about to wrap an arm around Shayne’s shoulders when he felt a frightening cold hand come up to halt him.
“Not t-too tight,” he mumbled.
“Okay, man,” Elliott murmured, his chest aching as he thought the boy probably wouldn’t be conscious long enough to know anyway.
Elliott let his jaw finally fall slack, wincing in both pain and relief as his fangs elongated, stretching just a little further down than his bottom lip. He tilted back his head as his gums became drenched in saliva.
There was a familiar tug in the pit of his stomach, a hollow wrenching to let him know he was about to cave. It was never a question when it reached this stage; it was a command.
“H-hey, El?”
“Mmph?”
“D-d-don’t f-fucking k-kill me,” Shayne stammered.
Elliott gulped wetly. He had to silently promise not to let it go too far, because in that moment he was incapable of speech, or even coherent thought. His throat felt like it was coated with sand, with shards of glass mixed in; he didn’t have the strength to fight the desire for what was right in front of him.
He didn’t have the strength to be lucid.
There was just thirst, and blood.
And it always came back to blood.
Always –
His teeth sank into flesh before he could check himself and make sure he was doing it somewhat gently. Shayne barely made a sound, but his head lolled to the side, resting in the crook of Elliott’s elbow, his arms dropping limply. Elliott felt the muscles in the boy’s neck shifting between his teeth as he dragged blood into his mouth through his teeth and gulped, the desperation growing more intense after the first taste.
Once Elliott’s stomach was no longer writhing and his throat was no longer on fire, the relief was like cool, salty waves rolling in and out, leaving the sand on the shore clear and smooth; feeding was just a response to a problem, and all he should have felt was the absence of the problem.
It would be a whole other problem as soon as feeding became –
He tried to fight the thing that he knew often clicked in his brain, the thing that begged for the undiluted pleasure of keep going keep going keep –
The thing that turned a functional feeding session into a feat of over-indulgence.
The thing that turned calm waves into a petrifying tsunami that he had no power to control or escape from.
Stop, he told himself as he kept drinking. He squeezed his eyes shut, the sweet liquid filling his mouth quicker and quicker between each swallow. On that beach in his mind, where the waves were starting to lick the shore faster and more violently, he pictured Felix. He pictured Felix looking at him in the way Elliott despised the most, in the way that made every cell in his body curdle.
With terror.
Elli, he forced to himself to imagine in Felix’s voice, and the likeness was bloodcurdling; why would you do it?
But he was just feeding; his body was transforming, and it was in control, and Elliott was in no position to deny it or fight it or –
Why would you kill him?
Blood, blood; there was only blood. It always came back to –
Elli, why would you kill –?
“Shayne,” Elliott forced out, blood and spit and flesh muffling the word. But it rebooted something important in his head. He winced, almost crying out, as it hit him; the knowledge that this wasn’t a meal, wasn’t the time to let the waves crash uncontrollably, wasn’t okay.
He broke away with a choked sob, his fangs tearing flesh on the way out instead of simply leaving puncture wounds. Elliott whimpered and shoved his fist into his mouth, trying not to picture himself tearing out a chunk of flesh and chewing it up and –
His stomach turned and he retched loudly around his own hand, tasting his own blood briefly before ripping it out. He cried out again from the slicing pain that went through his gums and up into his head as his fangs retracted; Lord, but it always hurt so much more when he stopped drinking before full, dizzying satisfaction had been reached.
“Fuck,” he said out loud, knocking a fist against his temple. His hand was trembling and dripping with blood – but whose? – as he pushed hair back from his forehead.
Elliott could practically feel it as the systems in his body got their gears turning; he could feel his thoughts falling back into place after reaching that dangerous place fuelled only by thirst and desire.
The waves calmly retreated from the shore, and it was time to inspect the damage.
The icy air felt like fingernails scratching the inside of his skull as he drew a deep, steadying breath. He wrapped both his arms around Shayne’s limp form, his heart sinking slightly when there was no protest from him this time. He held him tightly and stilled his breath, listening for the low, yet steady, rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Hey, man, you good?” Elliott whispered. He gave himself and Shayne a little shake.
“Mm,” Shayne grunted, sounding more like he’d been surprised, woken from sleep, rather than anything.
Elliott closed his eyes against a wave of heat as it slowly rolled off of him, and the swirling sensation in his gut that told him he might be sick if he wasn’t careful. The cold rolling off of Shayne was almost as intense as the heat; Elliott hoped that, for now at least, the two would balance each other out.
Very suddenly, Elliott felt his energy begin to pick up. He didn’t trust it not to dip again without warning, so he seized the moment to peel both himself and Shayne up from the ground. He spread his feet wide as his cousin remained slumped against him, eyelashes fluttering and picking up flecks of snow.
“Hey, try and stay with me, alright?” he said as he felt the weight of Shayne’s head dropping against the side of his arm. “I still have to tell you how your blood tastes like shit.”
The next sound to come from Shayne was a whimper that made Elliott’s heart twist with guilt. He wrapped an arm tightly around Shayne’s waist and hoisted Shayne’s arm over his shoulder.
“Like, seriously,” Elliott half-laughed . “It’s like wine that’s been left open for too long. Is that from all the years of eating nothing but demons and instant noodles?”
“F-fuck…” Shayne coughed softly, stumbling slightly as they walked. “…you.”
“Fuck you too, man.”