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Guillermo remembers when he realised he could fight.
He’d always thought that he wasn’t very good at sports. He’d been told his body was slow, weak and pathetic, that because he looked like that (glasses, short, fat) he was doomed to fail - so why should he try?
And then he tries. No, not even tries. Then trying happens to him. A vampire comes towards him, fangs out, and he just turns around, arms up, grabs and lifts and - bang. Dead. He’s killed someone, which is bad (yes, it’s bad, he has to keep reminding himself that killing is bad otherwise he’s going to turn into the kind of person who does murders and doesn’t feel bad about them afterwards), but he knew what to do and he’d done it.
His face is hot and his skin tingles and he feels … amazing. For once he hasn’t stopped to panic and sweat and worry. He’s just done it.
And then he does it again.
It’s like … like being the arrow and the archer at the same time. He knows, the bones and muscles and skin of him, where to move in space, how to turn, how much pressure to exert, where to twist, how to hold himself through every spin, in every millisecond. It’s like being beautiful.
Is he beautiful?
It occurs to him that he might also be good at sex.
He tries it, and he is. That’s nice.
So, he kills vampires now. He’s some kind of vampire slayer now. For a while he’s lost in the burn of it, the magic of the feeling, the power in his hands.
Then, when more and more and more vampire assassins turn up, he gets tense and frantic and frayed thin. But every time, he wins.
And after a while of that, once he’s vanquished them all, it starts to get … kind of samey.
The problem is that he’s so good at his job (his job being to kill any vampire who tries to kill his vampire. His vampires. He definitely means vampires) that it never feels like a fair fight.
They run at him, he spins round, brings his hand with the stake sharply up and digs it in and that’s it. One more kill. It’s like he’s a cat playing with a bowl of stupid goldfish. He tells himself he feels sorry for them (because if he doesn’t, he thinks as he drags another vampire body through the back garden and into the current burial trench, what kind of person does that make him?). But actually, he mostly just feels annoyed that they’re all such shitty opponents. Isn’t this supposed to be a challenge? Isn’t there supposed to be some give and take? At least with sex, the other guys know they have to make some kind of contribution.
So Guillermo is disappointed, and frustrated, and maybe a little bored. Not that he’d ever admit it.
And then his master tells him that he’s going to take a trip around the world without him.
White hot panic floods Guillermo. He feels his knees buckle. This isn’t - this isn’t what happens. Nandor doesn’t just leave. He can’t. He’d - fuck, he’d be dead in five minutes without Guillermo there. He’s so stupid and soft and trusting. Sure, Nandor is big, but he’s only big like the kind of dog who rolls over and licks the intruder coming to murder the whole family.
It makes Guillermo so mad, to hear Nandor talking like he’s the one who’s in control. He can feel the blood beating in his ears and at the tips of his fingers, he has goosebumps he’s so angry. If Nandor actually understood what he’s sacrificed, what he’s done, if he realised that he’s only alive because Guillermo let him live -
‘What did you say?’ asks Nandor, and Guillermo realises he’d said it out loud. Fuck it. It’s true, isn’t it? If Nandor’s leaving, he might as well say it again.
So he does.
Nandor chuckles indulgently and leans forward, and that’s enough to trigger Guillermo’s body into fight mode. He reaches forward and catches Nandor’s hand in his, twisting his arm behind his back. He’s kneeling right behind Nandor, and that closeness lets Nandor grab his shoulder and flip him up on top of the coffin, before snatching up his sword and jumping up after Guillermo. It’s a dumb, showy play, and it gives Guillermo time to think of a fake out. He kicks Nandor’s legs from under him, knocking him to the ground again. And look, he doesn’t want to kill Nandor. He’s playing with his food. He just wants to embarrass him. He wants to make him sorry. He wants him to see that Guillermo’s good at this, and Nandor would be lost without him.
But then - well, Guillermo’s always been good at taking the temperature of a fight. He knows how his opponent’s feeling - if they’re scared and about to run, if they’re desperate enough to try something stupid, if they think they’ve got the advantage (they never have). Nandor whips around and flings a dagger at him, snarling. Guillermo’s arm catches it cleanly, and he can feel from the angle of the catch, the balance of the knife in his hand, the stance Nandor is still pulling out of, that Nandor didn’t throw the dagger at him. He threw it to him. It’s a small distinction, but Guillermo is so good at what he does because he can read those small distinctions.
He flicks back through their last few moves. Yep. There it is. Nandor’s not mad at him at all. He’s not trying to hurt him. He’s playing too.
Oh.
This is - weird? Wrong? Interesting? Nice.
He whips the knife back towards Nandor, just missing his elegant nose and slamming into the painting of him on his horse. I can kill you, says the knife. But I’m showing you I won’t.
I can hurt you, though, he thinks, pulling out his crucifix from under his shirt. I can hurt you just enough to make this fun.
And Nandor gets it. Guillermo can tell he gets it. He puts up his hands like he’s begging, but he’s grinning. ‘Yes!’ he says. ‘Yes!’ It feels like he’s agreeing with Guillermo. It feels like they’ve read each other’s minds.
Something unlocks in Guillermo right then. Maybe he’s just been looking for a worthy opponent. Maybe he’s not bored after all. Maybe this could be -
But of course, he should have known that things don’t ever work out like that for Guillermo de la Cruz.
*
By the time he’s back in that shitty crate a second time (a SECOND TIME! Fuck Nadja! Fuck them all!) he’s convinced himself that he’d made up what he felt that night. He couldn’t really have seen what he thought he saw in Nandor’s eyes. And anyway, that Guillermo wasn’t the Guillermo he’s becoming now. Burying bodies, killing vampires, picking up virgins - that was all stuff he’d done, but that isn’t who he is, deep down. He’s Freddie’s normal human boyfriend now, a person who does normal human things. When he asks Freddie what he wants for supper, Freddie doesn’t say ‘a nice plump virgin, Guillermo’. When he asks Freddie what he wants to do that weekend, Freddie doesn’t say ‘we are having a vampire orgy, Guillermo, now hurry and buy me ten dildoes and a sex net’. Freddie gives him thoughtful gifts like copies of articles Freddie likes and thinks Guillermo should read, not stupid glitter paintings or pillows.
Anyway he’s very happy with Freddie and even though long distance sucks, they can do it because they are so in love. The vampires can be their normal dramatic selves and it doesn’t even matter to Guillermo. Mentally, he isn’t even really there. He’s in London, with Freddie, in Freddie’s flat in Camden Town that smells like wisteria instead of rotting corpses and gas leaks.
And then they all go to the Night Market.
Well. Marwa doesn’t go, because she doesn’t want to. That’s fine. Guillermo likes Marwa. She’s smart, and kind, and sweet. He has absolutely no reason to dislike her. It’s fine when she’s around, and it’s fine when she isn’t. It’s all fine. He has absolutely no cause to notice the way Nandor’s shine dims when she walks into the room, the way he pulls his body in and smooths out his face anxiously. And because he doesn’t notice that, Guillermo also doesn’t notice the bounce in Nandor’s step that evening as they weave their way through the Night Market, looking at heads on sticks and unicorn horns and birds with human feet and magic carpets and potions that can set someone on fire from the inside.
He does notice the way Nandor is ushering him down a particular route. Nandor is very bad at being cunning. His hands always curl up with excitement and he makes a gentle hissing noise in the back of his throat. But Guillermo thinks he must just want to show him some particular stall with some stupid joke items on it until they go down one more alleyway and Nandor bellows ‘you will love this! THIS is the familiar fight!’
Guillermo knows right then that he will absolutely not love this at all.
He really does his best to stop Nandor. It’s no fun to kill vampires, and it’s definitely no fun to kill other familiars. It’s like being a piranha in a kiddie pool. But Nandor’s bubbling over with excitement, eyes gleaming, lips back and tongue licking his sharp front teeth. And it’s easier to go along with him than just kill everyone else at the fight.
Even though Guillermo could, if he wanted. But he’d let Nandor live -
No. Don’t think about that.
The problem is that Nandor seems to really want to remind him of what happened that night. The huge vampire he has to fight next is limbering up, and Guillermo’s flexing his fingers and visualising exactly how to rip his windpipe out when Nandor yells ‘Wait! No! I will fight him! Yes! All right, WHO WANTS TO SEE ME PULVERISE MY CLOSEST COMPANION OF THIRTEEN YEARS?’
No. No. NO.
But of course the other vampires love that idea, and so, feeing like he’s stuck in a nightmare (though, is it a nightmare? The dreams he’s had about this don’t tend to be nightmares), he’s suddenly circling Nandor again while the crowd howls with excitement.
He steps forward and Nandor steps back, Nandor steps forward and he steps back again. He breathes in and Nandor breathes out. If Nandor had a pulse, Guillermo’s pretty sure their hearts would be beating in time.
This is bad, right?
This is so good.
Then they’re off, Guillermo motioning with his head a split second before he moves, so Nandor can follow. Strike, strike, block, parry, step left, lean right. Nandor shoves Guillermo into a car, and Guillermo can see he’s smiling. To stop himself smiling back, he turns and pelts up the rickety metal staircase behind them. Nandor follows, and at the top of the stairs there turn out to be swords. Of course there are. The game just got even more dangerous.
Nandor catches a lucky hit and knocks Guillermo’s wrist. It gives Guillermo a rush of adrenalin, and suddenly he’s mad. Why haven’t they done this before now? Why haven’t they been doing this all along?
Then he thinks about what he’s just thought, wobbles and lets Nandor punt him off the side of the tower. He falls soft-kneed and springy into a trailer, coat swirling and one arm down (yes, he wants to make it look cool even though there’s no one to see it), bounces up and bursts out of the trailer’s door just in time to catch Nandor as he’s turning away. Guillermo’s snapped a shovel in two and he presses the jagged end of it against Nandor’s throat.
It really does look good. They’re good at this.
His knee’s against Nandor’s back and their cheeks are pressed together. His other arm’s caught around Nandor’s shoulder. He could do anything he wanted right now, and he knows that. So does Nandor, and Guillermo can feel him knowing it, and loving it.
Shit. No. Let’s pull this back.
He whispers to Nandor, and the next moment Nandor’s leaping up, vaulting over his shoulder and swooping in for the fake kill. Guillermo’s pretty proud of how realistic his snapped neck must look to the audience, and then he’s hoisted up into the air in Nandor’s arms as the crowd roars.
They win, and it’s all over now.
Except the problem is, it’s not. Both Guillermo and Nandor have forgotten one very important thing: if your familiar dies in the familiar fight, they have to stay dead until you’ve left the night market. Otherwise, all of the vampires who just placed bets on your fight might get kind of mad about it.
So Nandor has to carry Guillermo home.
He puts Guillermo over his shoulders like a shepherd carrying a lamb, and it should have been extremely embarrassing, but it … isn’t. Guillermo is doing his best not to open his eyes and to breathe as shallowly as possible, so he can’t really tell where they’re going or what’s happening, but being held up by Nandor’s big hands, feeling Nandor’s muscles flexing as he moves, it’s - distracting.
Stop it, Guillermo.
They get on the train, and Nandor manoeuvres them over to a seat and lowers down into it. Guillermo slips sideways a little, his legs sliding down Nandor’s left arm and his head riding up to Nandor’s right shoulder. Guillermo’s expecting Nandor to shift him back, but instead Nandor turns his face right and downwards, into him. He’s so close to Guillermo now that he can feel - mierda, he can feel Nandor’s lips against his neck.
Nandor’s just being sneaky, Guillermo thinks desperately. He just wants to make sure that they’re not overheard.
‘You are doing well,’ murmurs Nandor. ‘The next stop is ours. Stop gasping.’
It’s a totally innocent thing to say, but the problem is that as he says it, Nandor’s tooth rasps against Guillermo’s stubble, and Guillermo can feel his tongue moving with each word. So it’s not surprising that Guillermo flinches, and his hand flexes against Nandor’s shirt.
Nandor’s hand shoots out and closes over Guillermo’s, and that’s how they travel that last stop. And Guillermo thinks how weird it is, that they can be so perfectly in sync when they’re fighting, but so out of step the rest of the time. Nothing Nandor does makes sense to him. Because it feels like - I mean, if he didn’t know that it couldn’t be - yeah. He doesn’t get Nandor. At all.
*
Nandor’s planning his wedding to Marwa. And that’s fine. It’s really fine!
What’s not fine is Nandor’s list of demands. A dodo? Black horses? AN ICE CENTERPIECE SHAPED LIKE A - no, this is too much. This is ridiculous.
‘I can’t get any of this,’ says Guillermo, breathing through his nose to stop the top of his head just flying off from rage.
‘Can’t or won’t?’ snaps Nandor, who also seems very stressed.
‘Literally can’t. Apart from the centerpiece, that’s a won’t. I’m not doing that to some poor craftsperson.’
‘Guillermoooo. Always so boring. You do not have the drive. I only want a few little things for this wedding to make it perfect and you will not do them!’
‘MOST OF THEM ARE IMPOSSIBLE!’ screams Guillermo, and throws his clipboard down.
It hits Nandor’s boot.
There’s a pause where they both stop and stare at each other.
‘Very disrespectful,’ says Nandor at last. ‘Naughty boy.’
‘I’m not a BOY!’ snarls Guillermo, and something in his brain snaps and before he knows it he’s reached up, ripped the antique halberd off the wall and pointed it at Nandor’s throat.
‘Oh!’ says Nandor, narrowing his eyes and looking Guillermo up and down. ‘I see how it is. You want a rematch. I beat you last time and now you want to try again.’
‘You did not BEAT ME! I let you win! All right, fuck it, let’s go.’
‘Let us go, indeed,’ says Nandor, and he picks up a whole sofa and throws it at Guillermo.
Guillermo has to backflip out of the way, and he comes down again winded, his brain singing.
It’s been a horrible week. He’s so tired, and sad - no, stop it, Guillermo, there’s nothing to be sad about - and the worst thing is, he’s got the feeling that no matter how much of Nandor’s list he checks off, he won’t get closer to working out what Nandor actually wants from this whole mess. Does he really love Marwa? Right now, Guillermo can’t tell. He can’t tell anything.
Except he can tell which way Nandor’s going to jump next (left, but pushing off from his right foot), and where he’s aiming (for the wardrobe in the corner of the room, to push it on Guillermo’s head). It feels so good, to know that. Guillermo blocks Nandor with a kick that launches himself into the air and all the way to the top of that wardrobe, and then he kicks off again for the chandelier with Nandor whirling behind him. They spin round it, glass sparking light across the walls. Nandor grabs Guillermo’s wrist, Guillermo counters by hitting him in the ribs and then pulling his hair back sharply, and Nandor hisses and gives Guillermo a blow to the sternum that knocks the air out of him and sends him flying back into the bookcase.
Nandor follows, slamming his body against Guillermo’s. Guillermo still can’t breathe, and he should be scared, but he can feel Nandor doesn’t mean it, that he’s having fun, that he knows Guillermo’s having fun too.
This is actually the most fun they’ve had all week. Is that bad? That’s bad.
Nandor’s got his arm up, pressing against Guillermo’s windpipe. His arm position’s all wrong, and Guillermo could break it at any time, but he thinks lazily let’s see where this goes, huh?
And then Nandor turns his head and darts his fangs towards Guillermo’s neck.
Guillermo moves faster than he can think. The next second they’re down on the floor, and Guillermo’s got his boot on Nandor’s chest, and Nandor’s saying ‘hey, no fair! No cheating, Guillermo.’
‘No biting me,’ says Guillermo tightly.
‘I was not really going to bite you,’ says Nandor, twinkling up at Guillermo. ‘And I thought you wanted me to bite - owie!’
‘All right, what the fuck is this,’ yells Nadja, storming into the room. ‘Can you two assholes not have sex more quietly? You are worse than the raccoons.’
‘We’re not!’ yelps Guillermo. ‘It’s just-‘
‘We were fighting,’ says Nandor. ‘Guillermo annoyed me.’
Guillermo can’t look at him. Oh god. Now this is embarrassing.
‘Whatever,’ says Nadja, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t care. You are disgusting and I do not understand you. Just do it fucking QUIETLY from now on, okay?’
‘We will do it quietly,’ agrees Nandor.
‘We won’t do it again,’ says Guillermo at the same time.
He knows Nandor’s trying to catch his eye, but he ignores him. All the certainty he felt during the fight’s gone, and he can’t cope with trying to parse whatever the hell is going through Nandor’s head. He’s back to not being able to read him again.
‘I’ve got to go find some black horses,’ he says to the room in general, and rushes out as fast as he can.
*
The next night, Nandor breaks a vase that Guillermo’s dusting.
‘I was working on that!’ yells Guillermo.
‘Well, you don’t have to work on it any more. I fixed,’ said Nandor smugly.
Guillermo snaps the duster in two and lunges at Nandor’s throat. Nandor whisks his legs out from under him and catches him by the hips to fling him at the tree trunk that’s still filling half of the room despite Laszlo’s efforts with whatever that chainsaw thing he bought off the internet was.
Guillermo’s been having a very tiring night. Nothing’s been going right. It turns out that the chocolate fountain he hired won’t give the deposit back if there’s any ‘wear and tear’ or ‘damage’ on the item, and he’s pretty sure that bloodstains will count as damage. And he knows, as he grabs a fistful of Nandor’s cloak in his hands to flip him over his head, that Nandor’s noticed that. He works backwards in his head, replaying their moves, and sees that Nandor had to go out of his way to knock the vase. He can tell that Nandor’s bad mood - he was asking for his grandfather’s sword, as part of the marriage ceremony, and Guillermo had to remind him that they got rid of it five years ago because Nandor said it was ugly - has vanished too. He’s happy again, a small smile around his fangs. They’re both at peace. In sync.
Guillermo catches a blow to Nandor’s arm, and Nandor yells, ‘Ow!’
‘Quietly,’ murmurs Guillermo - and that feels so good, to be able to order his master around, and to have him obey him.
And after that, it’s only natural that rules should develop. They don’t talk about them (they don’t talk about anything, that’s the point) but they don’t need to. They agree in a look, a gasp, fingers scratching on skin.
- No excessive noise
- No biting Guillermo (biting Nandor is fine)
- No breaking bones (even though Nandor’s will grow back)
- No bleeding on clothes that need to be dry cleaned
- Nandor gets to win half of the time
They add in a ‘no breaking the house’ rule the time Guillermo slams Nandor through the floor, and a ‘no fighting when Nandor is hungry‘ rule the time that Nandor hasn’t eaten in a few days and almost forgets the no-biting-Guillermo rule.
They add a ‘no leaving bruises on Guillermo’s face’ rule when Freddie notices Guillermo’s black eye during a FaceTime call one morning.
‘Babe!’ Freddie cries. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ says Guillermo. ‘My boss is - uh - riding me pretty hard right now.’
Nandor elbowed me in the cheek last night because I was trying to choke him out. Just normal master-familiar stuff.
‘I love your turns of phrase! They’re so American. Oh, look at this! I went mudlarking this morning and found it. A Roman coin! It’s Mithraic!’
Guillermo lets Freddie’s chatter about underground religions and gods and bulls (bulls?) wash over him. He loves listening to him talk. Freddie’s just so interesting. He took Guillermo mudlarking one clean blue London morning, no one else on the Tube apart from tired City workers, the Thames low and heavy with acres of mud around it.
They found a pipe handle and pilgrim medal and Guillermo looked at them in his hands and thought, Nandor was already alive when these were made.
Then he was mad at himself for thinking that.
‘I miss you, babe,’ says Freddie, then. ‘Maybe I could come visit? Show you what you’ve been missing?’
‘Oh!’ says Guillermo. ‘Yeah! I mean - once the wedding’s over, maybe? I’ll have more time then.’
‘Of course,’ says Freddie. ‘I’ve got to get back to work, all right? Love you.’
‘Besos,’ says Guillermo automatically. ‘Love you too.’
And he does miss Freddie, he tells himself. When he’s back with Freddie he’ll be back to his real self. No more running after Nandor’s stupid whims. No more stress. No more fights.
That’s better. That sounds fine. That’s normal.
But he doesn’t have to be normal yet, right?
Right.
*
The fights carry them all the way to the night of the wedding. Guillermo almost forgets it’s even happening.
Until it is.
Guillermo dresses himself slowly and carefully that afternoon, before he goes to wake Nandor. He’s partly slow because he pulled a muscle in his chest blocking Nandor’s lunge last night, but also because he wants to look right. He wants to look as though he cares. He wants to look beautiful.
Wait, no. No he doesn’t. He just wants to look like a good best man. He cares about Nandor, obviously. He’s been his familiar for thirteen years. He knows how long Nandor’s been looking for love, and now he’s found it. (Hasn’t he?) And Guillermo can be happy for him, because he loves Freddie. (Of course he does.) So he’s dressing nicely.
He brushes Nandor’s hair slowly and gently, Nandor leaning his head back against him. Some of his long dark hairs catch in a cut on Guillermo’s hand (two days ago, a sword that slipped a little) and Guillermo winces.
‘Are you all right, Guillermo?’ asks Nandor. He must have felt the flinch.
‘I’m sorry, Master,’ says Guillermo. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Guillermo, you told me you had attended to that! Why did you not bind it up? Come here, I will do.’
‘Master, it’s your wedding night!’
‘So it cannot start without me, can it? Come here.’
As Nandor smooths ointment across the cut and sticks a bandaid over it (not very well, but Nandor only learned what a bandaid even was a month ago) Guillermo stares at his big left hand. There’s going to be a ring on that finger tonight. He suddenly feels so tired that he wants to lie down on the floor.
But we’d kill each other, he thinks nonsensically. We try to, every night. It’s better this way.
‘Come on,’ he says out loud. ‘You don’t want to miss it.’
‘I don’t want to miss it,’ says Nandor. ‘No?’
‘No,’ agrees Guillermo.
‘No,’ says Nandor, and Guillermo could have sworn he sounds sad. But that can’t be true, can it?
Nandor puts out his hand again, and Guillermo stares at it.
‘Take it, Guillermo!’ says Nandor at last. ‘You are my best man! You need to lead me to the wedding.’
It’s not a custom Guillermo’s ever heard of. But Nandor’s looking kind of desperate now, and he doesn’t want to disappoint him, so he reaches out and takes hold of Nandor’s hand. Nandor freezes, and Guillermo thinks me must have misunderstood somehow, but it’s too late to do anything about it.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s go get you married.’
It’s meant to be jovial but it comes out sounding - wrong. Nandor tightens his fingers around Guillermo’s, and Guillermo squeezes back, and they walk down to Nandor’s wedding holding hands so tightly that Guillermo’s knuckles are white.
*
Guillermo can’t remember much about the wedding. His brain doesn’t seem to really be processing it. Marwa looks nice. The Baron is back to the way he was before Guillermo killed him. Guillermo’s hand is throbbing.
People start objecting to the wedding, which Guillermo doesn’t feel anything about. He’s fine. His hand really hurts. He’s so fucking tired he wants to take a nap on the floor.
For some reason he’s now holding a microphone while a line of people object. Maybe this is normal at a vampire wedding? He doesn’t know. Is he - supposed to do something? Should he do something? He looks at Nandor, and he can’t read the expression on his face. He looks so beautiful.
But we’d kill each other, he thinks again.
Or maybe - we’d let each other live.
But it’s too late, anyway. It’s always been too late.
*
So Nandor’s married. It’s fine. It actually is fine. Nothing’s changed, apart from that ring. Nandor’s the same, probably. They don’t talk about it.
They aren’t fighting, either. That’s good, right? That’s a good thing. Except it feels - like Guillermo’s lost his center. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know anything.
He’s been ignoring the rest of the household lately, and he feels bad about it. So when Baby Colin starts smashing walls again, Guillermo’s the one to suggest a game of hide and seek.
It takes Guillermo a little while to persuade Baby Colin to actually stop and count to one hundred (he wants to just start running after everyone, waving his hammer, before they’ve had a chance to hide) but he seems to get it in the end. Because Guillermo still doesn’t trust him that much, he just ducks into the cupboard in the hall to hide at the back of it.
There’s a lot of crap in the cupboard, mostly boxes that Nadja sent to Laszlo and they still haven’t sorted through. Guillermo climbs up on top of one of the boxes and hops over it to get to the space behind it. Except his fall is stopped by something large and solid that rises up to meet him.
It hits him right under the chin and snaps his head backwards. His mouth’s a little open and he can feel his top teeth meeting his lip, the skin bursting and sweet blood filling his mouth. He curses as quietly as he can, reaching out to see what the fuck -
And then his senses switch on all at once. There’s a vampire in here with him.
He’s got them pinned up against the back of the cupboard, one knee up to hold them in place, his right hand reaching for something wooden, anything, that he could use for a stake when he realises what’s radiating from the vampire.
Surprise, confusion, amusement, fondness. No fear at all.
‘Nandor?’ he says. It comes out as a stupid squawk. Of course it is.
‘Guillermo,’ says Nandor seriously. ‘Who did you think it would be? I must be better at hiding than I thought.’
Then he sniffs, and Guillermo can feel him sharpen.
‘You have cut yourself,’ he says. ‘Owie.’
‘It’s nothing-‘ Guillermo starts, and then catches his breath in shock, because Nandor puts out his thumb and sweeps it across Guillermo’s bottom lip. Then he - and Guillermo can’t see very much in the dark of the cupboard, but in this case he doesn’t need to - sticks his thumb back into his own mouth and licks it.
It’s so shockingly intimate that Guillermo doesn’t know what to do.
‘Hmm,’ says Nandor, and then he reaches forward again and puts his thumb back into Guillermo’s mouth. And Guillermo bites it.
It’s not a hard bite. Just a gentle press of teeth on skin. Guillermo doesn’t know why he does it. It just feels, for a second, like the right thing to do. Obviously it isn’t, he’s completely misread the situation, what the fuck is he thinking -
He’s thinking he’d like to wrap his hands around Nandor’s, suck his thumb into his mouth, and then reach up and pull him down for a kiss.
And realising he’s thinking that, something so completely inappropriate, when Nandor’s married and - and has never given him the smallest indication - makes Guillermo so horrified and ashamed that he opens his mouth and steps backwards, trying to put as much distance between them as he can.
There’s a pause.
Then, over the sound of his own racing heart, he hears Nandor say plaintively,
‘You like it, but you never do anything.’
At which point, Baby Colin pulls open the door of the cupboard and the game is over.
*
You like it, but you never do anything.
That sentence haunts Guillermo. What does it mean?
Obviously it can’t - you know - it can’t be what it sounded like. It must be some kind of weird vampire thing.
He avoids Nandor, that week, spending as much time as possible cleaning and repairing the house. Nandor goes away on a trip with Laszlo, Baby Colin and Sean, and Guillermo invites his family over for dinner, just to prove that he can do normal, non-vampire things. He’s not sure if he actually does prove anything, in the end.
Anyway, he’s up on the roof one night, fixing the guttering and thinking about Freddie, who’s booking a flight to visit him next month (see? Normal!) when he gets goosebumps on his arms and spins around to see Nandor dropping out of bat form onto the walkway behind him.
‘Guillermo,’ says Nandor. ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’
‘No I haven’t,’ says Guillermo, feeling his stomach churn and his face heat up.
‘You are lying to me! Why are you such a misery boots right now? You are bumming us all out. Nadja says -‘ he pauses ‘- never mind what Nadja says. What is wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ says Guillermo tightly. ‘I just thought you’d want to spend time with your new bride.’
‘Why would I do that? I already spend time with her. I am missing my guy time. My Guillermo time.’
Guillermo huffs and turns back to the gutter he’s trying to hammer back into place. He can’t talk to Nandor while he’s like this. He got married a couple of weeks ago and he’s already acting like - like it didn’t even matter. (Didn’t it matter? But if not - why did he get married in the first place? Why did he make Guillermo sweat over those stupid horses and the fucking CENTERPIECE?) He can feel a rage headache prickling in the back of his skull.
‘Guillermo, do not turn your back on me -’
And Guillermo’s had enough. He’s SICK of Nandor. He’s going to make him PAY.
He whirls around, holding up his hammer like a spear.
‘Oh goodie,’ says Nandor.
That is the last straw. That is IT. Guillermo lets out a roar and leaps after Nandor, chasing him across the weird gables and turrets and towers that make up the vampire mansion’s roof.
Their feet hit the tiles in sync, and no matter what Guillermo tries, he can still hear them breathing in and out together. He feels Nandor’s disgustingly cheerful mood, can tell how delighted he is as he scampers away. He’s not really trying to outpace Guillermo and - DAMN it - neither is Guillermo. He’s back in their stupid game. He can’t seem to get free of it.
Nandor spins around and throws a weathervane at Guillermo - which is really fucking ANNOYING since Guillermo’s just going to have to fix that too, now, and then Guillermo snatches up a length of guttering, changes direction as fast as he can and dives straight back at Nandor, brandishing it ferociously. Nandor jumps at him, tearing it out of his hands, and then keeps running, his hands gripping Guillermo’s shoulders and pushing him backwards, until they both hit a roof slope and stop with a crash.
Nandor’s kneeling above him, his legs on either side of Guillermo’s and his eyes locked on Guillermo’s neck. He’s going to bite him, Guillermo can feel it, he’s leaning down to do it, so he reaches up for the crucifix that’s tucked under his shirt. He stopped wearing it for a while, another one of their rules, but after the wedding, when he thought the fights were over, he put it back on. It felt like a statement. He’s glad he’s got it now. He wants Nandor to hurt.
But Nandor knows he’s reaching for it. He growls low in his throat. ‘Guillermo!’ he says. ‘Cheating! You know it is my turn to win.’
‘It’s not your TURN to win! We’re not playing any more!’ Guillermo yells at him. He twists his head to make sure Nandor really hears him (he’s still staring sideways at Guillermo’s neck, and Guillermo needs him to stop doing that), and right at that moment Guillermo feels Nandor’s intention shift.
His eyes flick up to Guillermo’s lips, and Guillermo knows what his next move is going to be.
There’s a second where Guillermo understands that if he can make himself imagine anything else - hitting Nandor over the head with the hammer, kicking his legs out from under him, diving backwards over the roof - it’ll all be fine. But the problem is that he doesn’t want to.
So he opens his mouth just as Nandor kisses him.
It feels like drowning, in the best possible way. It feels like what all of their fights had promised it would be, the thing Guillermo’s been trying desperately not to think about for months. Perfectly in tune, perfectly matched, just fucking perfect. It turns out that nothing’s hotter to Guillermo than two people who’re making the active decision, every second, not to kill each other.
Oh, Guillermo’s so mad that they didn’t do this before.
They’re both grinning at each other between kisses. They’ve rolled sideways across the roof, Guillermo pinning Nandor’s hands above his head, Nandor’s legs wrapped around Guillermo’s hips. Somewhere in the confusion one of Nandor’s fangs scratched Guillermo’s lip and now he’s bleeding.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Nandor anxiously, and Guillermo says, ‘no, I like it,’ and Nandor says, ‘yes, I know you do’ and carefully licks off the blood.
‘Please take off your shirt,’ says Nandor, and Guillermo is overwhelmed by how much he wants this. How much he’s always wanted this.
He flicks back through their fights and can see it, all of it. Fuck, he’s been so stupid.
He’s struggling out of his shirt, and trying to pull off Nandor’s pants at the same time (Nandor’s not good with clothes, he’s too used to having Guillermo undress him, which is making this whole thing extra weird and particularly dizzying) when something occurs to him.
‘But you’re married,’ he says.
‘Shut up, Guillermo, that is not relevant, why are you stopping?’ asks Nandor.
‘You said - you said you don’t cheat. Isn’t this cheating?’
This is cheating. We’re cheating. And look, he’s a very, very lapsed Catholic these days, but fucking a married vampire still feels … pretty wrong, emotionally.
‘This is not cheating,’ says Nandor, looking genuinely bewildered. ‘This is the warrior’s code.’
Now they’re both staring at each other in confusion.
‘The warrior’s code. You follow the warrior’s code too. You told me so. What warriors do together, during campaigns, is not cheating. We are both warriors, yes? So it is not cheating. Now are you going to have sex with me please?’
Oh. OH. Fuck.
It all clicks into place in Guillermo’s head. That time the vampires had imprisoned him, and he’d lied to Nandor to get out - and actually, now he thought about it, that was the moment that something changed between them. Had Nandor - had Nandor been trying to use the warrior’s code on him since then? Had it all - had all of this been -
No. His brain’s going to explode if he keeps thinking about it. Two years of - of nothing happening between them, when this could have been available to him all along -
But at this point he’s naked and so is Nandor and you know what? He’s waited long enough for this. He might as well fucking enjoy it.
So he does.
*
He wakes up some time the next afternoon in a cold sweat.
Fuck. He just - they just -
Oh, this is bad. But also very, very good.
Which makes it even worse! Because he liked it so much (it was, hands down, the hottest thing that had ever happened to him), how was he supposed to make sure it never happened again? It’s already happened three times, and that is not good.
What is he going to say to -
Oh, shit, he’s late to call Freddie.
Guillermo stares in the mirror for a second and then scrambles around his room frantically for something to cover himself up with (it turns out that vampire hickeys look … very distinctive, his neck has basically been destroyed, there’s no way he’s going to be able to be in the same room as any of the vampires without them working out what’s happened, oh fuck) and dives for his phone just as it rings.
‘Hi babe!’ says Freddie cheerily. ‘You look great!’
‘Oh. Um. Do I?’ asks Guillermo, trying to smooth down his hair (which looks a lot like he had sex on a roof and then fell asleep without brushing it).
‘Yeah. You’re smiling. It’s nice! I haven’t seen that smile for a while. I’ve been worried about you.’
‘I’m not smiling,’ says Guillermo. Shit. That was what else had been wrong with his reflection just now. He hadn’t been able to place it. He tries to stop smiling, but it’s really hard. His cheeks hurt. Has he been smiling in his sleep?
‘I’ve been planning my trip,’ Freddie says. ‘You know, I’d really like to go see Wicked, so I looked up tickets - they’re expensive, aren’t they!’
He keeps talking, and Guillermo says mmm and yeah and I can look into that. It’s like - it’s like Freddie really hasn’t noticed. Maybe he doesn’t really look any different, apart from the hair and the neck and the smiling. Maybe there’s nothing to notice.
Nandor would notice, Guillermo thinks.
That sends him on a very sexy train of thought, and then he looks at his phone and sees it’s almost six and he just can’t wait any longer. It’s almost dark, right?
He tells Freddie he has to go get supper, and Freddie smiles and waves and says, ‘love you!’
‘Love you too!’ says Guillermo, and if he wasn’t going to hell before, he definitely is now.
At least Nandor will be there too.
*
Over the next few weeks, Guillermo carefully stops thinking. He does not wonder what’s going to happen when Freddie arrives. He does not wonder what’s going on with Nandor and Marwa. He does not even wonder why a new camera crew and two presenters have turned up to renovate the mansion. (It turns out he really should have wondered about that.)
The only thing he can focus on is exactly where Nandor is in space, at every moment of the night, and where that is in relation to him, and whether or not they can find somewhere to fuck without anyone else noticing.
He tracks Nandor round the mansion by the goosebumps on his skin, the way his heart beats, the way his fingertips tingle, and he knows Nandor is doing the same thing. They always end up in the same room, and have to pretend to be surprised about it (this is part of the game).
Once they are in the same room they shift closer and closer together, like magnets, and again they have to pretend to be surprised about it.
Guillermo’s digging the grave for the presenter Nadja managed to murder (well fucking done, Nadja, very smooth) when Nandor comes sidling around the corner and walks very casually up to him. They both realise the cameras are on them at the same time, and they hover in front the grave site, trying to touch without touching, carefully not looking at each other and not needing to. Guillermo is dizzy with lust, who knew how fucking hard it was to not have sex with someone all the time. These new camera people are really cramping his style.
Nandor gooses him and Guillermo is so startled that he almost falls backwards into the grave. Nandor has to catch him, and whoops, that feels good.
Then, thank fuck, the cameras turn and head back into the house, and Guillermo grabs Nandor and drags him down onto the fresh dirt for a kiss.
*
Obviously, it all has to go wrong eventually. It always does, for Guillermo.
And this time he can’t even blame someone else. It’s his fault.
They’re lying in Nandor’s coffin in his room (kind of a tight squeeze but also a fun challenge).
‘Marwa is enjoying her man cave, I think,’ says Nandor. ‘I wish she would let me use it sometimes.’
Guillermo’s chest hurts. He hates it when Nandor mentions Marwa.
He must have flinched, because Nandor says ‘you always are so upset when I talk about her! But she is my wife!’
‘Yeah, well, I - I wish she wasn’t,’ says Guillermo.
They both freeze, at this.
‘Guillermo, we have been over this. Marwa is my wife and you are my warrior and the situation is perfect,’ says Nandor angrily.
‘We haven’t been over anything, actually. And it isn’t perfect. What if - what if I wanted to be your wife?’
Oh shit. He’s said it.
‘Warriors cannot be wives,’ says Nandor, tightening his fingers around Guillermo’s shoulder. ‘Do not be silly.’
Guillermo should shut up, but now the words are pouring out of his mouth. ‘You don’t even like her! I know you don’t. You only married her because you thought you should!’
‘Marwa is my wife! Do not speak about her this way!’
‘Anyway, it’s not just you who has a - wife, you know,’ he says. ‘I’ve got Freddie.’
‘Who is this Freddie?’ asks Nandor quietly.
‘My boyfriend,’ says Guillermo, his throat suddenly rough. ‘He lives in London.’
‘Guillermo! Why would you keep this from me? I do not like this! You should not have a boyfriend!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because!’
‘Why?’
‘Because you are mine!’
‘I’m not, though, am I?’
Suddenly Guillermo’s having to swallow hard not to cry. Where the fuck did this come from? What happened to taking stuff as it comes and not thinking about the future? Why does this hurt so much?
‘You are always mine,’ says Nandor. ‘You swore it, years ago. You are my soldier, Guillermo.’
‘If I was really yours you’d have turned me,’ says Guillermo.
He feels Nandor’s muscles tense.
‘I will do it! Give me time!’
‘You’ve had time. You’re never going to do it, are you? You’ve been lying to me!’
‘You are the liar! You have a boyfriend, and you never told me! You are a little liar, Guillermo, and I should punish you.’
‘Stop trying to start a fight! I know what you’re doing!’
Nandor blinks down at him. ‘Is it working?’
‘No!’
But Nandor’s face is very close to Guillermo’s now, and it’s impossible not to lean forward, grab his cheek and kiss him. Guillermo does it roughly, to show that he’s still angry. And he is. He said ugly things, but they’re things he’s wanted to say for a while. Why hasn’t Nandor turned him? What does it mean? Is - whatever this is - just a fling for Nandor? Is Guillermo just some fucking guy?
But Nandor’s pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around him, nipping at his neck, and Guillermo takes a deep breath and gives in to it.
For a while more, at least.
The coffin falls over and neither of them mind.
*
But Guillermo’s so mad at Nandor. He can’t stop thinking about that conversation. Well, if Nandor has a wife, he can have Freddie, right?
So he doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t do anything, and then one evening there’s a knock on the door and Freddie’s standing outside with a bunch of flowers.
Oh shit.
Suddenly, he realises that this was a very bad idea.
Nandor’s coming down the stairs. ‘Who is it?’ he asks, and then Guillermo can feel him realising. That’s the problem, since they started fucking. He’s always on the alert, where Nandor’s concerned. He can always read him.
‘I’m Freddie!’ says Freddie cheerfully. ‘You must be Nandor! I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Have you now,’ says Nandor silkily. ‘You must be Guillermo’s friend.’
‘A bit more than friends, actually,’ says Freddie, pulling Guillermo close. Guillermo hopes he can’t feel his second of hesitation before he leans in to Freddie.
He knows Nandor caught it.
‘I’m his boyfriend.’
‘And I am his boss,’ says Nandor. ‘He is a good employee, although sometimes he is a little aggressive.’
Guillermo’s flushing so hard his cheeks hurt. Fucking Nandor! Why can’t he be normal, just for once?
‘We’re going out,’ he says to Nandor.
‘Yes, you had better,’ says Nandor. ‘I am a little hungry. Will you pick me up something on the way home? Freddie, it was a pleasure.’
And Guillermo definitely catches the way Nandor takes Freddie’s hand and holds it for a moment too long.
Oh. This is war.
*
But the problem is, there’s no one to attack. They head into the city, and Guillermo sits through Wicked, rehearsing the fight he’ll have with Nandor when he gets home.
‘Are you all right?’ asks Freddie, at the interval.
‘I’m fine,’ says Guillermo quickly, and Freddie smiles and goes to get them drinks.
It’s really weird, having a partner who can’t read you. Freddie believes everything he says, and, even stranger, he never seems to know what Guillermo’s going to do next. He’ll turn right just as Guillermo is heading left. They keep reaching for the same thing at the same time and bumping hands. Freddie seems to find it cute but Guillermo’s just stressed out. He’s giving signals, he’s sure he is, but Freddie isn’t picking them up.
And the sex … it’s not good. There’s just a lot of crappy fumbling, and Guillermo can’t get Freddie to do what he wants. Once he bites Freddie, and Freddie says, ‘er, that’s not on’.
Guillermo’s frustrated and confused - what’s happened to him? He used to be good at this! - and even after Freddie’s asleep, he lies awake, staring at the ceiling. It feels weird to be sleeping at night, anyway.
He misses Nandor. Wait, no he doesn’t.
But he does.
At breakfast the next morning, he’s exhausted and he can’t hold it in any more.
‘Can I have your bacon?’ asks Freddie, just as Guillermo says, ‘there’s someone else.’
‘What?’ says Freddie. ‘No, but are you going to eat that?’
‘I - yeah, I am - did you hear what I said? There’s - there’s someone else.’
‘Yeah?’
Freddie doesn’t seem fazed. Guillermo doesn’t understand it.
‘Of course there are other guys,’ he says. ‘We’re long distance. That’s what it means. I went out with Tom last week, didn’t I say?’
‘No,’ says Guillermo. ‘You didn’t say. You didn’t tell me!’
‘I mean, I love you, babe, but you can’t expect -‘
Guillermo stands up. His legs feel wobbly and he has to brace his hands against the table. ‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re supposed to be - I thought - I didn’t want anyone else. This isn’t going to work.’
‘Oh,’ says Freddie. ‘Well. Are you all right if I use the room for the rest of the weekend?’
‘Whatever you want,’ says Guillermo bitterly. ‘I’m going home.’
As he walks away, he looks back and sees Freddie starting to eat the bacon off of his plate.
*
Fuck Freddie! Fuck him! He never wants to see him again! Guillermo storms back into the vampire mansion that evening, after a day spent stomping around the city. And straight into - Freddie.
Guillermo screams. Why is Freddie here? Why is he NAKED?
‘Guillermo!’ yells Nandor, appearing at the top of the stairs. He’s also naked.
‘What the FUCK!’ yells Guillermo. ‘What the fuck is HAPPENING?’
‘Guillermo, calm down,’ says Nandor. ‘I will explain.’
‘You’d fucking BETTER!’ Guillermo screams. ‘Freddie, you said you were using the room!’
‘Huh?’ says Freddie. ‘Who are you?’
‘Guillermo! This is not your Freddie. This is my Freddie. I have fixed. You see, we both have a Freddie wife now.’
‘Explain,’ hisses Guillermo.
‘You said you were not happy that I had a wife and you did not. So I asked the djinn to make Marwa like your Freddie. Now we both have a Freddie. Now we can both be happy.’
‘I broke up with my Freddie. Why do you always - you always get it WRONG!’
‘You did?’ asks Nandor, looking suddenly very vulnerable. ‘Do I always get it wrong?’
‘Yes,’ says Guillermo. ‘No. I don’t know. I’m going out again.’
And he turns on his heel and walks out of the front door.
*
He doesn’t come back to the mansion that night. He heads straight for a club (not Nadja’s, obviously) and gets stupid drunk. There’s a guy, obviously there is, but he’s kind of unsatisfying. Guillermo walks back home in the sharp morning light feeling sick and lonely. Where has this gone so wrong?
He feels like it’s his fault.
When he gets into the mansion he falls into bed. He’s sure he’ll never sleep again, and then he’s asleep in seconds.
*
He wakes up to a large hand on his forehead.
‘Guillermo,’ says Nandor softly in his ear. ‘I think I have been a little bit stupid.’
Guillermo snaps upright. He’s got Nandor’s wrist in his hand, twisting it behind his back, before he can even think. Nandor’s breath hitches, and Guillermo can hear it.
Finally, he thinks. He can feel his body relax.
‘What have you done now?’ he asks.
‘Unhand me, Guillermo! I have spoken to the djinn -‘
Guillermo feels something cold and sharp against his side, and looks down to see that Nandor’s got a knife in his other hand, pressing into his ribs.
‘Asshole,’ he says, affectionate.
‘It is not against the rules. Anyway, I have spoken to the djinn, and my Freddie is - no longer my Freddie any more. He is back to being Marwa. And I thought it was better if I let him - her go. That is what you are supposed to do with things you love.’
‘You haven’t let me go,’ says Guillermo. He pulls Nandor round to face him, so they’re nose to nose, breathing into each other’s space.
‘I would never let you go again. I am not that stupid.’
‘So?’ asks Guillermo, and his heart’s beating so hard he can feel himself shaking.
‘So I have been thinking. Why should you not be my warrior and my wife? It is not against the rules either. It might be a good idea. What do you say?’
‘Fuck you,’ says Guillermo, and he knows Nandor knows what he means. Then he flicks the knife away, leans forward and presses Nandor down onto the bed.
They’re so loud that Nadja comes flying downstairs to scream at them for being disgusting and also for putting her off having sex with Laszlo.
‘I meant yes,’ says Guillermo to Nandor, when she’d gone again, and Nandor says, ‘yes, I know that, you don’t need to say.’
‘I have been thinking,’ says Nandor eventually. ‘I have not been fair to you, have I? I have never turned you.’
‘You haven’t,’ says Guillermo. Suddenly, he’s sad again.
‘You really do want it,’ says Nandor. ‘I don’t understand why.’
‘I really do,’ says Guillermo. ‘And I want you.’
‘You do?’ asks Nandor, perking up. ‘I thought - once you were a vampire - you might go away.’
‘I promise I won’t,’ says Guillermo. And he knows that Nandor knows he’s telling the truth. ‘I’m going to stay and fight.’