Chapter Text
The vampire bite in Henry’s neck is hurting again.
He’s only had it for about a day so that makes sense – getting doubly stabbed in the neck doesn’t exactly go away overnight, after all – but Henry can’t stop rubbing at the pinpricks, feeling the shooting pain all over again.
His skin is colder than it usually is, and with a sinking in his gut, he realizes he can’t feel a pulse underneath it.
“Aw geez,” he mumbles, the reality of the situation finally starting to settle in.
Henry snapped at his boys earlier, apologized and ran, but as he took off into the woods Darryl caught sight of the horror carved into his expression.
Ron was frozen still and silent as he watched the scene, and Glenn jerked his head in the direction Henry had run. “You gonna check on him?”
“I’ll- I’ll give him a bit,” Darryl had said, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the firelight flickering on the trees.
He didn’t wait as long as he probably should have before clapping his hands on his thighs, heaving himself up to standing. “I’m gonna go make sure Henry’s alright,” Darryl says, nodding at the lazy salute from Glenn and thumbs up from Ron.
It isn’t hard to find him. Henry had been in such a rush to leave that he’d snapped a fair amount of branches as he ran. There was a tree that had a full crack down its center, the impact point at a height that probably lined up with Henry’s shoulder. Darryl’s mouth twisted in thought, concern, torn between worrying about Henry and wondering how he’d fare as a linebacker with that kind of strength.
He kept walking, and it wasn’t long before he found Henry, sitting on a boulder in a clearing. Light from the almost full moon lined his hair, highlighting his sunken cheeks and deepening the bags under his eyes. He’s pale, washed out like he hasn’t seen the sun in a year, and Darryl knows it isn’t just because of the moonlight. Henry’s been looking worse lately, ever since he got bit by the vampire, and everything about him seems drained.
Darryl coughs as he enters the clearing, letting Henry know that he’s approaching because he wouldn’t like to get attacked by a startled vampire. Henry’s head whips up and the moonlight flashes in his eyes and it almost makes Darryl pause.
He doesn’t, though, just keeps walking to sit next to Henry. “Rough night?”
Henry’s jaw tightens, and the movement of delicate muscles are sharp against his skin. “I shouldn’t be allowed to see my boys.”
"What?" He'd sounded certain, and Darryl’s brow furrows in confusion. “They’re your kids, though.”
“Yes, and I don’t want them to be used because of that. I’m not safe for them to be around, I’m- I don’t want to be like Terry Senior, Darryl, I don't want to use our relationship to fuel magic, I don’t want to use them like that.”
“Isn’t that just what Daddy Magic is though?”
Henry’s eyes go wide. “Oh no. Darryl, I don’t feel comfortable with this, my two beautiful boys are their own people, they aren’t batteries, and just because I’m their dad doesn’t mean I get to use them like that, vampire or not, I mean, what makes me better than the Omega Daddies if we act like that-”
“Woah, Henry, it’s- I dunno, it’s different. Those are your kids, you love them. They love you.” Darryl shrugs, watching the flutter of Henry’s chest as he hyperventilates. He doesn’t know if Henry even needs to breathe anymore. “You’re their dad.”
“What if that isn’t enough?” Henry looks horrified, and all the lines of his face are drawn in sharp relief, gaunt and haunted.
Darryl can’t answer that, he’s never had a mind for philosophy but he has to say something, so he changes the topic. “When was the last time you ate?”
Henry shakes his head a fraction, trying to keep up with the shift. “What- why?”
“Things seem worse when you haven’t eaten, and I can’t fix this problem but if you need to eat that is a problem you could solve, and it might make things seem more manageable after you had something to eat, that’s what my dad always said.” Darryl frowns for a moment. “Does vegan blood exist?”
Henry looks away, and his hands are balled into fists, so tight they’re almost shaking. “Not that I’ve been able to find. It’s- it doesn’t matter, that isn’t important, I mean, I haven’t had anything yet and I just won’t, it’ll be fine, that’s not the point of this-”
“You haven’t- Henry, it’s been like a week since you got turned! How are you alive?”
“I’m not, remember?” His laugh is scratchy, and Darryl can see the sharpness of his teeth behind his lips. “Vampire, and all that.”
“That doesn’t mean you just can’t eat anything, maybe I can’t do a BBQ for you but we can figure something out.”
Henry shakes his head, his hands fluttering at his side before he balls them into fists.“I- look, I’ve never had meat, and I’m not going to change that now, I am in control of myself, I can deal with this, I’m not going to eat people to survive.”
Darryl looks at Henry, the way his jaw is set and he isn’t able to meet Darryl’s eyes, the lankness in his hair and the way his bones are beginning to show against his skin. He half remembers something Henry had rambled about before, one of the times he was trying to get Darryl to try a tofu burger after a soccer match. “You don’t eat meat because the animals don’t say you can, right?”
“I mean, it’s a lot more complicated with that, and the factory farm system is awful, but part of it is that, yes, I don’t see why I should get to kill something just because I’m hungry, I’m just another animal in the ecosystem, and I’m not going to just start biting people and draining them either.”
“What if I say you can, though?”
Henry cocks his head. “That’s sweet, Darryl, but I don’t think you can give me that kind of pass-” He pauses when Darryl starts shrugging out of his sweatshirt. It’s a chilly night, but that would just get in the way.
Darryl rubs his hands on his arms, pretending it's for the chill and not his nerves. “You can drink my blood. I consent, and all that. I mean, don’t kill me,” Darryl says with a laugh, scratching at his neck. “But you can have some, I’m not gonna let you just starve when I can do something about it.”
Henry’s eyes are locked on where Darryl touches his throat, and when he takes a shallow breath, Darryl can see his canines are even sharper. “It’s…I suppose it’s ethically sourced, after all, and I don’t know if vampires can get stomach pain.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Darryl can’t stop himself from swallowing at the sight. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as can be.” Darryl settles back against the boulder. “How do you want to do this?”
Henry moves onto his knees, facing Darryl. “I can drink from your wrist, it would probably be easier to access. Wouldn’t require as much positioning, at any rate.” Darryl shivers as Henry’s fingers trace across his pulse. “Tell me to stop and I will, as soon as you ask- actually, the stoplight system might be useful here, red yellow green so that we know where each other are at?”
Darryl doesn’t know what that is, but he can get the basic gist. He knows how to drive. “Sounds good,” he says with a smile, tries not to examine how excited he is by the idea of this. He’s just a guy helping out his friend and making sure he doesn’t go hungry. “Green, right?”
“Yes!” Henry lights up before bringing Darryl’s wrist up to his lips. He pauses, exhaling, and as the breath ghosts across his skin Darryl finds that he is holding his own breath. “Tell me to stop whenever you want, okay? Don’t pass out on me.”
Darryl nods and gives him a thumbs up, and Henry sinks his fangs into his wrist.
Darryl gasps at the shock. It hurts less than he was expecting, and as Henry pulls back to lick over the wounds, the pain fades away. It just feels numb, a bit tingly, like he was sleeping on his arm wrong. Henry sucks at the injury, drinking his blood, and as he laves his tongue over the holes, Darryl is suddenly reminded of the hickies he and Carol had given each other in high school, always careful to keep them hidden under clothes.
He shoves the memory away. This isn’t the same.
He’s just helping his friend.
Darryl flexes his fingers, trying to bring some feeling into them, and Henry’s grip on his arm tightens, keeping him in place. Darryl is glad that Henry isn’t looking up at him, because he’s pretty sure he’s blushing with whatever blood is left in him, and he does not want to examine that.
A couple minutes pass, and when Darryl tries to readjust himself against the stone, his head swims, dotting out his vision. He’d never donated blood – he hated needles, not that he would tell anybody – but he had picked up Carol after she had, and she'd been woozy even with the orange juice. This feels like that, his thoughts slowing as he tries to line one up after the other. He doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about Carol, not when Henry is so close to him, mouth on his skin. Darryl gets caught watching the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows.
“Hey, Henry.” There’s no response, just the scrape of teeth against skin again, gentle but enough of a threat that it makes Darryl shiver again. “Hey, I think- I think that’s enough, I’m feeling pretty woozy bud.” What was the system Henry had mentioned? “Red, Henry, I don’t know how much more blood I’ve got.” He pats Henry’s shoulder, keeping his hand there when Henry’s head whips up to look at him.
Henry’s fangs are out, blood smudged across his lips, and Darryl gulps when he makes eye contact. Henry’s pupils are fully dilated, and it takes a moment for him to come back to himself, blinking and shaking his head slightly. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too far, right? Oh, no, how are you feeling?” He puts his fingers against Darryl’s throat, checking for his pulse, sighing with relief when Darryl reaches up to hold his wrist.
Darryl had meant to move it away, but this is nice. Henry’s skin is cool and nice to hold, and he rubs his thumb over it without thinking. “I’m great.”
Henry’s eyes are still wide, bright under the moonlight. Darryl watches his lips as he talks “Thank you for stopping me. Do you- we should probably get you something to eat, right? We don’t exactly have cookies and orange slices, but I’m sure we could scrounge up something-”
“Do you want to kiss?”
Henry’s voice shot up an octave. “What?”
“You have nice lips. We don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It was just nice to kiss you before.”
Henry’s mouth is open, and his fangs are still visible, blood still on his lips. “I can’t- that would be taking advantage of you right now, you're out of it.”
Darryl pouts. “Maybe I want to be taken advantage of.”
“Okay, that’s- we need to- we can talk about this later, yeah? When you aren't dealing with blood loss?” Henry is blushing bright, and the heavy creases in his face seem to have lightened along with his eye bags. He looks good. He looks kissable.
Darryl sighs. “Fine.” He drags out the word, before slumping back against the boulder and looking up at the sky. The stars are bright even in the light of the moon. Things feel far away and soft, like everything has been wrapped in cotton. “Was I a good blood bag?”
“The best,” Henry says, laughing even though he’s still flushed. “C’mon, let me help you up.”
Darryl sways as he stands, but manages to collapse onto Henry with an arm over his shoulders, and the two of them walk their way back to camp.
“Henry, you can drink my blood whenever you want.” Glenn is sprawled against a log at the campfire as he taps his throat. “Open invitation, all consensual blood.”
“I will always ask first, but thank you.” Henry nods. He’s been cleaned up, no more blood on his mouth and his fangs are mostly put away. He still feels off, but he’s more present than he has been all week. He feels like he should be more worried.
Ron pipes up. “You can always have a go at the good ole Stampler juice. Well, one kind of Stampler juice. My blood. You can’t have my-”
“Yep, got it Ron,” Darryl says, cutting Ron off before he can elaborate on his other juices.
It’s strange, sitting around the campfire and laughing like nothing has changed. Henry can’t say that he hates it.