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It had been approximately three days since Michael Langdon had saved you from dying of internal bleeding by having you drink his vampiric blood. Three of the longest days of your life, to be exact. Kineros was closed until cleaning and hazard crews could properly clear the wreckage that used to be the first floor lab, with Jeff and Mutt being more than happy to pay their staff during this unexpected time off (a decision you suspect Michael had a hand in). Unfortunately, this worked to your disadvantage.
Burying yourself in research was a comfort, a distraction. When life got too crazy or unexplainable, numbers and diagrams and formulas were dependable. There was always a solution, which is why you like the work that you do so much. Now that this is taken away from you, at least for the time being, you're left with only your thoughts, which is far more terrifying than any lab explosion.
You've been trying to keep busy as best as you can, only to encounter...unexpected side effects. Reading a book that had been on your 'to be read' list for a while now? The words were shockingly clear, like you were looking through glasses that magnified your vision times 1000. Instead of reading, you spent an hour getting lost in how you could see the individual fibers of the page.
No big deal, maybe your eyes are just changing. Baking is next on your list, only for the smell of vanilla to overwhelm you so strongly that you had to sit down from dizziness. Nose sensitivity, you assume. But then you can't listen to the new Billie Eilish album because the sound is piercing through your eardrums.
After three days of being able to do nothing but sit in a darkened room in silence, you crack. The business card that Michael had laughingly left behind on that first night sits abandoned on your dresser. You knew enough of vampire lore to know that you shouldn't call until night fell, hence why you waited. Typing the number into your phone (which has the brightness turned down all the way), you put the phone on speaker and set it away from you to reduce how loud it is.
Michael picks up after two rings. "Here I thought I would never hear from you, Y/N."
"What the fuck did you do to me?" you ask.
"What?"
"I don't know if you poisoned me with your blood or something, but something's wrong. Everything's too loud, too overwhelming." You're sure you're whining right now, but you can't help it.
"You're at your apartment?"
You roll your eyes. "Where the hell else would I be, Michael?"
"I'm on my way."
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," you mumble, roughly pressing the screen until the call ends.
It's only a matter of minutes before Michael arrives. He doesn't knock on the door, no. Rather, you can sense that he's here. You don't know how you can sense it, considering you didn't believe in anything close to the supernatural a month ago. Somehow, though, you just know. Sure enough, he softly knocks on your bedroom door moments after you know he's here. If you were in a right state of mind, you would berate him for breaking into your apartment (you're 90% sure your front door was locked). But you're not, and so you just make a muffled noise of acknowledgement that you hope he'll decipher as permission to enter.
Michael tuts when he sees you, slipping his shoes off before sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. I should have seen this as a possibility."
"You should have seen poisoning me as a possibility?"
When you look up at him in disbelief, something strange happens. Your symptoms almost completely disappear. The bewilderment you feel must be showing on your face, because Michael immediately puts a hand on top of yours to calm you down.
And calm you down it does. You fucking melt under his touch, in a way that you've never experienced before. Your entire body yearns for him, and you feel yourself lean into him against your will. It should scare you. Instead, though, it feels right.
"I didn't poison you. You remember what I told you might happen after drinking my blood?"
You nod. "Heightened senses, vivid dreams, you can...feel my emotions, or some shit."
"Correct. There's a symptom that I didn't mention, simply because of how rare it is. I've only known this to happen a couple of times. Sometimes, the bond that is formed when a human drinks a vampire's blood can extend far deeper beyond what is normal. The human craves being with the vampire, and it's near agony for them to not be together."
"What makes the bond so rare?"
Michael's silent for a moment. "Nobody really knows. Some humans and vampires have a blood match, others need a lot of blood to heal and thus feel a stronger connection. Sometimes there's a...soulmate-type bond, but I personally find that ridiculous."
"Probably took too much blood," you surmise, mainly because the other options are far too terrifying to think about.
"Probably," Michael agrees.
"So, how do I make it go away?"
"Physical touch and closeness is the only way that I'm aware of."
You groan, letting your head fall. "Of course it's the only way."
"It should only be for a day or two, pet."
"Call me 'pet' again and I'll bite your hand off."
Michael ignores your threat. "It's either that or the agony that you were facing before I arrived. The choice is yours."
Michael stands up, removing his hand from yours and walking towards the door. The symptoms return, growing stronger with each step he takes, and you realize that you really cannot continue to deal with this.
"Fine!" you stop Michael in his tracks. "Just...come back here, please? I need..." You don't want to say that you need him, because you would rather swallow lava than do that, but the sentiment is clear.
He nods. "Alright."
Slowly, as if he's going to scare you off, he sits next to you on the bed. Ever the proper gentleman, he allows you to determine how this is going to go. At first, you're determined to only sit next to him. For a couple of minutes, that works. But almost like a drug, your body, his blood that now mixes with yours, craves him. Reluctantly, you snuggle into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.
"Thank you," Michael says after a while. You're nearly asleep in his arms, and you blearily look up at him.
"For what?"
"For putting aside your stubbornness. I could feel your emotions, you know. Feel how much you were hurting."
"And you let me hurt? Even when you were hurting too?"
He smiles. "You needed to come to me. You wouldn't listen to me if it was the other way around."
You chuckle, starting to actually fall asleep this time. "Fuck you, Michael Langdon."
If it were anybody else that would say that to him, Michael would kill them and drain their blood. But the way you said it, as if it were an endearment, stirs something in him. As he sits there on your bed, holding you in his arms and stroking your hair, he thinks. He wishes that he did have all of the answers, like you think he does. Like everybody thinks he does. Even being the first vampire does not make him privy to all of the secrets of vampirism.
He wants to know why this bond between you and he is so strong. He wants to know why he couldn't kill you that first night, and why he felt the need to save you when the lab exploded. There are a lot of things that Michael Langdon does not know that he wishes he does. What he does know, however, is that this moment feels right. And for now, that's all that matters.