Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Viago closed his eyes and thought about being human.

Well, human-shaped. He was a vampire, after all.

He thought about standing tall on two legs, smoothing down the wrinkles of his waistcoat, the texture of the embroidered silk under his cold palms. He thought about opening his mouth and forming words, speaking them aloud and hearing his own accented voice instead of a series of squeaks.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Scheiße.

The sight that greeted him was the same as before he’d closed his eyes to begin with: a view of the forest floor from about six inches up.

He wanted to scream, but the high-pitched squeal his little bat body let out wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it would’ve been in his vampire form.

He’d been trying to turn back for over an hour now and nothing was working. He’d never had a problem before. It was as easy as thinking (or saying, in some cases) “bat” and then poof! He’d be a bat. Then when he was done, he’d think “vampire” and he’d be a vampire again. Easy peasy.

But not tonight.

He’d been walking around, alone, feeling sorry for himself, when he’d come upon a group of teenagers throwing sticks and rocks at a cat they’d trapped under a park bench. She was sleek black and spitting terrified, hair standing on end.

Viago abhorred humans who mistreated animals, and he was feeling a bit peckish anyway (depression always made him want to eat) so he made quick work of the brats, groaning at his over-indulgence as he knelt down on all fours to check on the poor frightened creature who, upon seeing him, came out from under the bench to greet her rescuer.

Suddenly, there was a naked woman where the cat had once been.

She had the visage of a young woman – maybe in her thirties – but she could’ve been older than Viago for all he knew. Witches had ways of keeping themselves looking young.

Witches and vampires were not friendly, per se, but Viago wasn’t in a mood to keep up appearances, so he decided that unless she started something, he wasn’t going to.

“Thank you, Vampire,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously like she thought maybe he’d had ulterior motives for saving her.

“You are most welcome, Witch.”

“Lydia,” she corrected, offering him a hand. He narrowed his eyes, but shook all the same, not wanting to be rude.

“Viago,” he said, before he realized that maybe he should’ve given a fake name. He didn’t know much about magic, but he did know that names were supposed to be pretty important and powerful. Perhaps he should have been more careful.

They stood in awkward silence until a car drove past, the driver honking loudly and shouting out the window “nice tits!”, startling them both.

Viago looked at the witch, taking in her nudity and realizing how inappropriate her lack of attire was for the chilly evening. He offered her his overcoat, trying not to visibly cringe as he thought about how many times he would have to wash it to get the witch stench out. It was already difficult enough getting his things to a dry cleaner without bursting into flames, for Satan’s sake!

“Thanks again,” she said, pulling it on and covering herself up. “Two times a hero tonight, eh?”

“Hardly. Those children were easily disposed of. In fact, you could have just transformed and cursed them all for attacking you like that. Why didn’t you?”

The witch shrugged.

“I don’t know. Didn’t feel like it, I guess. I thought they’d get bored after a few minutes and go away. I just wanted to sulk around in peace for a bit.”

“Ah, I understand,” Viago said, and he did. He had gone off “hunting” alone tonight, needing a break from his loud and charismatic companions, but he didn’t want to hunt. He didn’t want to do anything, really, except be alone in his malaise, but his drive to protect the helpless cat had overridden his own apathy for himself apparently, so now he was at least depressed on a full stomach.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but suddenly it was three a.m. and they’d been pouring their sad hearts out to each other for over two hours while wandering around in the Remutaka forest park.

He’d told her about Katherine and how she’d left him now that she was a baby vampire, and the world was fresh and new to her. He didn’t begrudge her – they had grown apart over the last seventy or so years and she deserved to experience all of the wonderful things vampirism had to offer – but it did hurt.

His friends didn’t understand. They kept trying to “help” him move on with orgies and nights out at Boogie Wonderland, but it wasn’t about sex.

He wanted a connection. He wanted someone who could love him and understand him. The kind of relationship like in the movies and great love stories where they wouldn’t even need to talk, they just understood each other with a glance or a feeling because they were meant to be forever and ever. Like a Beauty and the Beast situation, or like in Sleeping Beauty, where true love’s kiss could wake him from the terrible sleepwalking existence that he was un-living every day.

Lydia nodded sympathetically as he spoke, related her own love woes to his tales, lamented the lack of supernatural dating scene in Wellington.

When he mentioned his fairytale fantasy though, she perked up.

“I could curse you,” she offered eagerly.

“Um, no? No thank you,” he said, cautiously. He did not want to be cursed. That would not make anything better for him.

“Yes! Don’t you see? It’ll be perfect!”

He did not see how that had anything to do with what he was talking about.

“I know exactly which one to do. It’ll be the perfect way to find out for sure if your werewolf loves you back.”

Hold up.

Wait.

What?

When had he…? He hadn’t mentioned Anton that much. Surely. Certainly he hadn’t said anything about his big ol’ crush he was harboring for the Alpha that was a monumentally bad idea no matter which way you looked at it.

Had those kids he’d eaten been drunk?

Was he under a truth spell?

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he started to say, but it was too late. Lydia was standing now, bouncing on her heels, and clapping her hands together.

“No, no, no, it’s going to be great! You’ll see.”

“Wait,” he put a hand out to stop her but she was already chanting and before he could reach her his arm was suddenly no longer an arm, but a long, black wing.

She shrieked with delight, grabbing his tiny, furry body and kissing him on the top of his head.

“Good luck little vampire! I expect an invitation to the wedding!” she told him with a cheerful laugh, tossing him into the air before running off to Satan knows where.

Viago flapped his wings, trying to get his bearings.

Well fuck.

What was he supposed to do now?

Chapter Text

Viago was well and truly fucked.

He must’ve wandered farther along than he’d realized while walking with the witch, and now he was somewhere deep in the forest, surrounded by dense trees that all looked the same – looming and dark and impossibly large. He was utterly alone, with no sense of which direction to go to find his way home and the sunrise fast approaching.

He flew up above the trees in a weak attempt to get his bearings, but, well, he’d never been much of a navigator and it all kind of looked the same to him, so he returned to his perch on a fallen branch and resigned himself to trying once more to transform back.

Maybe he’d done it wrong the first six times.

As he was standing there, beady little brown eyes closed and focused, he felt a sudden, searing pain in his left arm.

He screamed (squealed) and turned to see a large, brown stoat trying his best to make a meal out of Viago’s vulnerable bat body.

How rude.

In general, Viago didn’t make a habit out of eating animals – they weren’t nearly as tasty as humans – but this one had attacked first, and its little teeth were tearing into the sensitive skin of his wing and it hurt. Luckily, despite being bat-shaped, he was still a vampire and as such the nasty little mustelid was no match for his mighty skills.

He emerged victorious, but the damage had been done. His left wing was badly injured, the skin shredded, and the bone likely broken from the force of the stoat’s jaws. He tried to extend it, but stopped almost immediately, the pain too great to continue. It would heal up soon, with a little bit of time, but Viago didn’t have much of that to spare. His mobility now severely limited, the doubt started to creep in, as did the panic.   

Bats don’t cry.

Neither do vampires.

But in that moment, Viago wanted to.

He’d had the thought earlier in the night that nothing felt worse than being hopeless. Now he knew that wasn’t true; it felt much worse to be hopeless and helpless.

The sadness he’d been wallowing in recently returned with a sudden, suffocating might, weighing down his already heavy thoughts.

Maybe I should’ve let the stoat eat me, he thought, hopping off his branch. His feet started moving in a random direction, too restless to stay still even though he had no idea where he ought to be going. Being turned into breakfast must be less painful than burning up in the sunlight. And at least then I would’ve been good for something.

Now he would die the way he lived (unlived? The vocabulary was so confusing when you were undead) useless and alone.

It would probably take his flatmates ages to even notice he was gone, he reasoned, only realizing when the dirty dishes piled up high enough to fall or they ran out of clean clothes. Even then, they probably wouldn’t care much. A new familiar could take care of those tasks and wouldn’t nag them about it the way Viago did. They would probably be happier without him.

Perhaps Stu would notice, but he wouldn’t make a fuss. Stu never made a fuss. Besides, Viago had the sneaking suspicion that he liked the others better than him anyway, especially Deacon. Stu was Nick’s friend and Viago was just a vampire he was nice to when he came over to visit his real friends.

The wolves might take notice, but not for ages still. The next game night wasn’t for another ten days at least. They’d probably notice the lack of available snacks first – Deacon and Vlad wouldn’t bother to bring out the jars of peanut butter and bowls of jerky that Viago painstakingly stocked up on for when they came around. He taken the time to look up what to get on the Googles and everything, making sure to never bring anything into the house with raisins or chocolate. But his flatmates wouldn’t know that – wouldn’t care to know that – and when the wolves came over and started playing whatever game was finally decided on for the month, they’d get peckish and wonder “where’s Viago?”

By then, there would be nothing left of him, not even a speck of ash on the forest floor probably.

Would any of them be sad to know that he’d perished?

Would Anton be sad?

He shook his head and kicked at a pile of twigs he’d nearly tripped over. He didn’t want to think about that – the inevitable conclusion not something he felt like facing just now.

No, he decided, taking up his aimless trek once more. If tonight is to be my last then I will end it with pleasant thoughts only.

So he slogged through the damp, dead leaves, fantasizing about a happier ending for himself, one where all of his friends and acquaintances gather around his ashes and mourn him, trading stories about how wonderful and fun and really, really cool he was, and how his presence changed their lives (and afterlives) and how he will be forever missed, his memory cherished for all of eternity.

Ah yes, he was in much better spirits now.

He was just getting to the part of the fantasy where Anton would throw himself on the ground in front of his ashes and confess his secret love, when he caught a familiar scent on the wind.

He thought at first it might be a hallucination, that thinking so hard about Anton had somehow materialized his scent like a mirage in the desert. But no, there it was again, carried by the breeze, the distinct woodsy, wolfy, woodfire smell of the Te Aro pack Alpha.

Viago listened carefully, quickly pinpointing his location a few meters to his left. He called out, momentarily forgetting he had no voice except the tiny bat squeaks this body made.

Still, it was apparently enough for the werewolf’s sharp ears to pick up on because Viago heard his boots come to a stop, then start crunching in his direction. Viago went to clap his hands, then immediately winced, his injured wing throbbing painfully at the movement. He settled for walking as fast as his tiny legs could carry him towards the sounds and smell of Anton, squeaking as loudly as he could on the way.

“What’s this then?” Anton asked aloud as his boots finally reached the screaming bat. He squatted down to be closer to its level and Viago could’ve swooned with relief.

Anton would recognize him now and get him back home before daybreak. They’d figure out how to fix this…this curse or whatever the witch had put him under, and he’d be back to his old self in no time!

“Are you hurt, little fella?” Anton asked, his voice soft and low like he was talking to a wild animal or something. “Hang on,” he told Viago, pulling a pair of thick gloves from one of his many pockets and putting them on. “All right, just in case. Rabies boosters hurt like the dickens, and the paperwork’s a nightmare. Come on then, little one, I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

He scooped Viago up carefully, avoiding putting any pressure on his injured wing, and started his walk back to wherever he’d come from, taking a screenshot of their GPS coordinates before leaving.

“Got to made sure we know where to put you back once the vet’s had a look at that wing of yours,” he explained.

Viago blinked at him.

Anton just laughed and shook his head, a strand of ginger hair falling gracefully across his forehead.

“Stop talking to the wild animals Anton, they don’t like it,” he chastised himself under his breath.

Viago wanted to tell him that he should keep talking because 1) he was not a wild animal, thank you very much, and 2) he very much did like it.

But he couldn’t. Because he was still a bat.

He was still a bat and Anton didn’t recognize him.

He was still a bat and Anton didn’t recognize him and the sun would be up soon! He was still going to fry in the sunlight because he was STILL A BAT and ANTON DIDN’T RECOGNIZE HIM and he didn’t know what to do about it!

And for the first time in a long time he thought he might be, just a little bit, scared.

Chapter Text

As a rule, Viago didn’t like to bite his friends. It was gauche; brutish, even. But drastic times called for drastic measures.

Anton dropped the cordless phone he was using to dial the on-call veterinarian, shouting.

“Ow! I’m trying to help you, you little fiend!”

He dropped Viago too, but the vampire was prepared for that possibility and quickly clung to Anton’s shirt so instead of hitting the floor, he dangled gracefully from his breast pocket. Anton sighed, moving over to the sink to wash his wound, muttering about the paperwork he was going to have to fill out now and how he should’ve been more careful, just because it was cute didn’t mean it wouldn’t bite.

Viago preened a bit at that.        

Anton thought he was cute!

The thought was distracting enough that he almost forgot what he’d been doing, but as Anton bent to pick up the phone, he jostled Viago from his thoughts and brought him back to the present.

Right.

He needed to convince Anton that he wasn’t a cute little bat he found in the woods, but a cute, very normal-sized vampire he’d found in the woods. But how?

Since Anton didn’t recognize his form, Viago figured the only chance he had was for Anton to recognize his scent. He was surprised he hadn’t already, but maybe he smelled different as a bat? He had been rummaging around in the leaves for a while, and then there was the stoat and the teenagers… maybe he didn’t smell much like himself. Still, his scent had to be there somewhere, and it really was his only chance to make it out of this situation without being assaulted by some stranger and risking being put out in the sun, so he had to try.

Carefully, he started climbing up the green and grey shirt, the woven fabric providing decent traction for his little toes. He made slow, deliberate movements so as not to draw too much attention to himself. There was a dodgy moment when his claw got caught on the kōwhaiwhai embroidery at his shoulder, but he quickly freed himself.

Luckily, Anton was too distracted looking for the plastic backing that had fallen off the phone when he dropped it to notice the bat perching on his shoulder. The moment his wing touched Anton’s neck though, he was dodging and clinging on for his life as Anton jerked and swatted instinctually before realizing what he was doing.

“Jesus.” Viago hissed at the word, still clinging to his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize you’d moved up there. I don’t like things touching my neck – he says to the wild animal who can’t understand him. Christ man, get ahold of yourself.” Anton sounded frustrated – were his eyes always that yellow? – and he placed both hands palm down on the counter in front of him, taking long, deep breaths.

Viago could sense the blood racing in his jugular, pulse thumping rhythmically with the beat of his heart.

Any other day he might’ve taken the time to appreciate it, but as it was, he didn’t have any time to spare and the deep breaths Anton was taking were perfect for what he needed to do.

He steeled himself against the pain he knew was to come and opened his wings, flying directly into Anton’s face, doing his damned best to get his scent into the werewolf’s nose.

Anton yelled and started flailing, but Viago would not be deterred. This absolutely had to work.

“What the fuck are you doing, you derange creatu– Viago?” Anton stopped moving abruptly and took a deliberate breath in as Viago squeaked in victory, clinging desperately to the side of his face. “Viago?” He asked again, this time more calm, more sure. Viago squeaked once and nodded his furry head. “I’m going to take you down now, if you don’t mind, okay?” Viago squeaked again and Anton’s hand came up and removed him from his awkward perch.

He looked at the bat in his hand, eyes narrowing, head tilting, until finally he seemed convinced.  

Suddenly, his eyes grew big as saucers and his head snapped up to the clock above the door, then to the windows.

“Fuck,” he yelled, practically dropping Viago onto the counter and covering him with his jacket. “The sun’s about to come up mate, what’re you doing pissing about in the forest at this time of day?” His voice was farther away. Closing the curtains? Viago guess. “Actually, what’re you doing pissing about in here? Playing a game of guess who when I could’ve accidentally killed you!” He sounded truly distraught at that and the vampire felt a little flutter in his cold, dead heart over it before reminding himself that Anton didn’t like killing things – undead or not – and that was probably why he was distressed, not the fact of it being Viago specifically that he might’ve killed.

The jacket was lifted off his body and he could see again. Better, even, because now it was much darker in the ranger cabin. All of the blinds had been drawn and curtains closed tight and a scratchy-looking grey blanket was draped over the empty curtain rod that was attached to the back of the cabin door. Anton had turned the overhead light off too, bathing the room in a nice, dim yellow glow from a single lamp in the corner.

“Sorry, should’ve thought about the lights sooner,” Anton said, eyes still darting around the room to check for danger. “You’re safe for now, but there are too many gaps. I don’t trust it. Is that why you turned into a bat? To make yourself smaller to avoid the sunlight?”

Viago shook his head, frustrated with his inability to explain.

“Can you turn back? I’m sorry, I don’t speak bat.” He looked exasperated, weary, and Viago wished there was something he could do about that, but he couldn’t. He was stuck.

He shook his head again, and instead of growing more frustrated, Anton paused, frowning.  

“You can’t or you won’t? Sorry, you can’t answer that.” He shook his head at his folly, “let me try again: Are you physically able to change back into your normal self?”

Viago shook his head. Satan he was lucky he’d been found by one of the smart werewolves. Not that they weren’t all lovely in their own ways, but some of their talents certainly fell more solidly in the physical category than the intellectual one.

“Okay. Okay, that’s… not good. Do you know why?”

He nodded. He didn’t know exactly why, but he knew enough that a nod felt warranted. He knew it was the witch’s doing and maybe if they found her, she could reverse her curse and change him back.

“Great! That’s something. Can it be fixed?”

Viago shrugged. Hopefully, he thought, trying to stay positive. Lydia hadn’t been malicious. He was sure if they just talked to her, she would realize her “gift” was a mistake and she would change him back and they would never have to speak of it again.

“Okay, we’ll come back to that. First and foremost, are you okay? I know your wing is hurt, but that will heal, right?” Viago nodded, starting to feel like one of those wobble-head dolls he had seen in the shops that people sometimes stuck on their car dashboards. “The best thing to do now is to get you back to yours so Vlad and Deacon can have a crack at communicating,” he glanced at clock and frowned. “They’re probably all asleep by now, huh? Sorry man, but I really don’t fancy breaking into a vampire den uninvited. If it was you on the other side of the door I’d risk it, but you know what Vlad’s like.”

Viago did know. He didn’t blame Anton for being weary. His friends were lovely but perhaps not the most reasonable all the time. Perhaps there was somewhere in the cabin he could hide until sundown. He started looking around the tiny wooden room for a safe space to pass the time out of risk of being burned to a crisp.

There was a disappointing lack of such spaces available.

“Will you be okay to wait at mine until sundown?”

Viago’s gaze snapped back to Anton, blinking several times while he processed the offer. He knew Anton was considerate – he had met the man before, for Satan’s sake – but offering to shelter a vampire, mortal enemy of werewolves since time immemorial, in his own home? It was almost incomprehensible.

Sure he’d hosted a game night or two, but this was different.

His momentary stillness must’ve given Anton the wrong idea though because he added hastily, “I can call Stu instead, if you’d be more comfortable with him, I know we’re not, well… I’d like to think of us as friends, but you’ve known Stu longer and I understand if -” Viago nearly toppled over shaking his head so hard. How to make his sweet, silly werewolf shut up and take him home?

Anton reached out and caught Viago before he could fall.

“All right, I get it, no Stu. So, you’re okay with me then?” Viago nodded while carefully climbing up his arm, back to the pocket he’d clung to earlier.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. My relief should be here in about,” he looked at his watch, “fifteen minutes, which means you’ve got a few more minutes of freedom before you’re gonna have to hide under my jacket until we get home. Unless you want to hide somewhere else. I think I saw a cardboard box lying around here somewhere…” Viago squeaked indignantly and nestled himself into Anton’s pocket, determined to bite the wolf again if he brought a box anywhere near him.

He still had some dignity.

Viago had been to Anton’s house twice before on game nights. He lived in the modern, two-storey home alone, technically, but from what Viago had gathered from their talks there was always at least one other pack member hanging around. They all had keys and came and went as they pleased, which explained why there were two cars in the drive already when they pulled up.

Not that Viago could see that from he was still hidden inside Anton’s jacket, snuggled comfortably in his breast pocket. The fleece lining combined with the werewolf’s own body heat was making everything feel cozy and with the sun already up Viago’s attention kept floating in and out in a fuzzy, half-lucid sort of way. He was lulled further by Anton’s constant narration, the rumble of his chest and the lilt of his voice adding to the vampire’s sleepy state.

If only he had soil from his homeland, he could be asleep in seconds.

“The boys must’ve fallen asleep playing video games again,” Anton was saying when Viago tuned back in. “I hope they remembered to bring their work clothes this time.” He parked the car and checked that the jacket was securely over his companion, blocking out all traces of sunlight. “Ready?”

Viago squeaked once.

He clung tightly with his claws as Anton ran to the door, attempting to limit their time in the sunlight despite his precautions. Viago was touched by the gesture, feeling positive that he was truly safe for the first time since being changed into a bat.

Anton stayed silent as he moved around the house, drawing the curtains as he made his way to his bedroom. Viago heard the door click shut and the screech of metal on metal as he pulled his own curtains closed.

“One sec; I’m just gonna…” he trailed off, and Viago made out the sound of a drawer being opened and closed and some kind of cloth rustling.

“There we go. You can come out now,” Anton said, carefully unzipping his jacket so Viago could make his way back out into the world.

To be honest, he wasn’t opposed to staying snuggled up for a while longer, but he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Besides, Anton had gone through all that trouble just so he could come out.

He peeped his head out around the edge of the jacket and looked around.

The room was large, but sparse with furniture, the majority of the space being taken up by a king-sized bed facing the double window that was now covered by a sheet, tacked in multiple places to keep even the smallest sliver of light out.

There were two small tables on either side of the bed and a wooden desk against one wall, next to which sat a bookcase filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes.

Viago had noticed other bookcases throughout the living area on previous visits, but the contents of these shelves seemed somehow more worn and loved - less like a display and more like a cherished treasure trove. He wished he had fingers to reach out and touch the well-worn spines.

The walls were the stock standard eggshell that most houses came with nowadays, but they were almost entirely covered by a mosaic of hexagons in earthy greens and browns, almost like they were in the forest but indoors. The spots that didn’t have these hexagons were covered in moon charts and cork boards with pieces of paper memories tacked up all over the place. There was a framed print of a wolf howling at the moon hanging above the door and what appeared to be a hand painted canvas of a similar design on the opposite wall.

Viago’s favorite thing though was the squat, round plushie that sat in the middle of Anton’s giant bed. It was obviously meant to be the Big Bad Wolf from the silly Red Riding Hood stories – with big yellow eyes and a red flannel shirt – but it struck Viago as so quintessentially Anton that he couldn’t help but love it. Something about the cute fabric fangs or the tufts of ginger-brown chest fur made him want to hug it tightly to his chest and never let it go.

His desire for the soft toy was so much that, without intending to, he glided down from Anton’s pocket – left wing making some minor protest - right onto the toy and snuggled down into its soft, soft fur.

Anton chuckled but made no move to remove him from his perch thankfully, so he carried on, rubbing his little nose against the toy’s velvety ears.

“I was going to say make yourself at home but looks like you’ve got the gist. I’m just gonna go get the lads up and hit the shower. I usually try to stay up after an overnight if I have the next day off, but I have a feeling I’ll be up all night anyway so if it’s all the same to you I’ll try to catch a few winks while the sun’s up. I imagine you’ll be doing the same.”

Viago wanted to tell him about the soil and that he would absolutely not be catching any winks, but he could not because of this stupid curse, so he let the werewolf carry on and focused instead on the very cool plushie he got to cuddle instead.

“I’m going to leave this open if that’s okay with you. The room’s partially soundproofed,” he pointed to the pretty hexagons, “so I might not be able to hear if you called. You’re pretty quiet, even if you are high pitched.”

Viago nodded, touched again that Anton was putting so much thought into his safety. It was like he wasn’t even trying, like it came naturally, looking out for his hereditary enemy. Viago supposed it came with being an alpha. He probably couldn’t help the instincts that told him to protect, regardless of who it was directed at.

He listened to Anton go about his morning routine, his gentle waking and chastising his pack mates, shuffling them off to work with frozen breakfast burritos and lunchboxes full of leftovers. He heard the alpha briefly explain the situation about Viago and ask them to spread the word  and keep the curtains closed. He tried to focus his attention elsewhere when he heard the shower turn on. His own flatmates had no sense of privacy or decorum, but Viago had carried a bit of his gentlemanly sensibilities with him even after all these years.

He drifted in a sleepy daze until Anton returned, pale skin flushed pink with the heat of his shower, smelling like eucalyptus and pine. He was in a worn tee shirt, green fabric faded and soft-looking, a size too big with three tiny holes on one sleeve, and pair of grey sleep pants that might’ve been black at one point, many years and washes ago.

He closed the door behind him and double-checked the window before coming to lie down on the bed to Viago’s right, putting himself between Viago and the bedroom door.

Viago had never really paid attention to how different certain things were when he was a bat before. For instance, his eyes were more sensitive to light, and he could smell sweet things particularly well. There was something clinging in the air that he couldn’t place, and he took a deep breath to try and figure it out.

Oranges!

Anton must’ve had an orange with his breakfast-slash-dinner. Yes, that was it. He was very proud of his deductive skills, but when he looked back at Anton he felt a pang of confusion because the man suddenly looked… sad? Disappointed?

“Sorry you’re stuck here. I bet the smell alone is probably killing you – well, not killing, but you know what I mean. Wish I’d thought to open the window before tacking all that up. Sorry.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking down at the bedspread.

“Hopefully it’s not as bad for you as a bat? You could stay in one of the guest rooms, but to be honest I’m betting the whole house reeks of werewolf. Can’t really help it,” Anton shrugged, mouth twisted in a frustrated expression. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he added, seemingly to himself.

Viago shifted so that he was laying stretched out on the plushie’s head, wings draped protectively over as much of him as was physically possible for his tiny frame. He absolutely did not want to be exiled to a guest bedroom. He wanted to stay here with the plushie that smelled like the woods and felt like a cloud.

Anton’s mouth untwisted into a half smile – a little happy, a little sad – reaching out to pet the stuffed wolf’s paw.

“You can take him with you; though I imagine he smells just as bad as the rest of the room must.”

Uggghhhhhh!

Anton wasn’t getting it.

This was all Deacon’s fault for exaggerating about how smelly werewolves are all the time. They really didn’t smell that bad, once you got used to it, and Anton didn’t even smell a little bit bad. He could possibly even be described as smelling good – if there were no other vampires around to hear it – like sitting around a campfire in the woods; warm and earthy. Cozy.

Viago reached out with his uninjured wing to where Anton was still holding on to the paw, wrapping his digits around him as best he could. Bat wings weren’t the best at holding hands, but Anton was smart. He would get the point.

“Guess that’s a no then. You’re positive?”

Viago rolled his eyes and nuzzled into the soft fur once again.

“Can’t argue with that.” He yawned, turning his head into the pillow to hide it. He was starting to look very sleep-soft in the dim light of the desk lamp, still-damp hair sticking up in random places and falling into his face every time he moved. Viago was almost glad to not be able to sleep for the opportunity to take it all in; an entire day to memorize the tiny details, the lines and scars, to count his eyelashes and watch the way his lips parted as he breathed. To look his fill and not have to pretend for fear of being found out.

If nothing else, the witch had gifted him that. Even if he did suffer more for the knowing in the long run. What was existence without a little suffering?

“Guess we should turn in, huh? I’ll probably wake up in a few hours anyway, but if you need anything don’t hesitate. I’m a light sleeper, it shouldn’t take much.” His eyes fell closed before he’d even finished talking, another yawn escaping his lips with his last words. Viago had to let go of his hand so he could turn the light out and get under the covers, but, much to the vampire’s surprise, he reached back out after settling down. Anton’s hand rested lightly on the stuffed wolf, not quite touching Viago, but close enough that he could easily close the distance if he chose to.

It had been a long night and Viago was feeling a little reckless, so he did, letting his wing “fall” on top of Anton’s fingers. Even through that barely-there contact, he could feel the wolf’s heat suffusing through his own body. That cozy, safe feeling blanketed him once more as he silently wished Anton sweet dreams.

“Night Vi,” the other man mumbled into the darkness surrounding them. His thumb stroked comfortingly back and forth over Viago’s wing. “’S gonna be okay. I’ll get you back, promise.”  

Chapter Text

After some one-sided debate about how likely Viago’s roommates were to answer the door for Anton, he ended up calling Stu.

“Hey man, thanks for helping,” Anton said, greeting his packmate as they got out of the car.  

“Of course. Hey Viago.”

Viago chirped a hello, fluttering around Stu’s head once before returning to Anton’s shoulder.

He’d figured out pretty quick that flying around all the time was not ideal. It wasn’t so bad in short durations, for an hour at a time perhaps, but having to constantly keep in motion just to be at eye level was exhausting. Besides, his left wing was still achy from the night before.

A good day’s rest would help. As would not being a bat.

Stu led them up the crumbling stairs to the vampires’ front door, using a key he pulled from his pocket instead of bothering to knock. Viago was glad Anton had thought to bring Stu. If it was just the alpha he probably would’ve knocked and been left to wait on the porch all night long. Viago would’ve had to find an open window or hole in the roof to fly through and risk getting dirty and covered in cobwebs.

(No one ever cleaned the attic, even though Viago had put it on the chore chart specifically).

Instead, the vampires greeted them with shouts of “Stu!” when they walked in, conveniently gathering in the parlor to see him.

There was an air of general confusion and disappointment at Anton’s presence, but no outright hostility, Viago noted with pride. They’d come a long way in a not so long time (for vampires).

“To what do we owe this surprise visit from our favorite werewolf?” Vlad asked. Looking over Stu’s shoulder at Anton he added, “and the other one.”

“Ah, it’s about Viago,” Stu told him.

“Have you seen him?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Has something happened? We’ve been worried sick,” all of the vampires spoke at once at the mention of their friend. Viago did not think, from what he could see from his hiding place in Anton’s jacket, that they did look all that sick or worried, but he supposed they must’ve been a little bit to have noticed his absence in only one night.

He was touched.

He flew out of his hiding spot, shouting “surprise!” in bat, which sounded about the same as everything else in bat: “Squeeeeee!”

“Viago! What in the seven circles of hell were you doing in that dog’s jacket?!” Vlad admonished.

“There are nine circles of hell,” Anton corrected, ignoring the dog comment altogether.

“Shut up, mutt. I think I would know more about hell than the likes of you.”

Viago wished he could speak so he could ask Vlad to stop being so rude (and also tell him Anton was correct about the circles of hell. There are nine). Instead, he had to settle for perching on the back of the wooden computer chair and listening while Anton explained what he knew about Viago’s predicament.

“…and then I brought him home. I’m hoping one of you has some idea what could be going on?”

“This is obviously vampire business and of no concern to you or your kind. Be gone. We will handle matters from here,” Deacon said, dismissing Anton with a wave of his hand. Stu turned to leave, but Deacon quickly added, “not you Stu, obviously.”

Anton heaved a sigh, nearly in unison with Viago.

That wasn’t fair. Anton was the one who had saved him from becoming toast and housed him safely all day! His flatmates were just being unnecessarily mean.

“I’ll leave,” Anton began, “if you can tell me for sure you know what’s going on. Otherwise, I’m staying right here until we get to the bottom of it. What if it’s not just a vampire thing? What if it has something to do with hunters? We need to figure out what we’re up against here. The whole supernatural community of Wellington might be at risk.”

“You think you might be turned into a bat next?” Deacon sneered.

“No, dickhead, I don’t. But if someone or something is causing supernaturals to transform against their will I think that is a concern to the people who turn into giant freaking wolf monsters, don’t you? That could be a bit more of a threat to the general population than an adorable little bat. No offense, Viago.”   

Viago nodded in agreement. There was no offense taken on his part (in fact, he quite liked that Anton had called him adorable in front of his friends).

He knew, of course, that the supernatural community was in no danger of becoming cursed the way he was, but he could see the alpha’s logic and it was solid.

“Fine. You can stay. Just don’t piss on the furniture.”

“Or get your hair all over the place,” Deacon added for good measure, turning to go sit down next to Stu on the mostly-blood-free couch.   

Anton rolled his eyes but kept quiet and composed in the face of their insults.  

“Great, now that that’s sorted, do you have any idea what could have done this to him?”

“Are we sure he’d not just like, playing a prank or something?” Nick asked, finally looking up from his phone to join the conversation.

Viago squawked indignantly at the accusation, even as Anton came to his defense.

“Definitely not. If you’d seen him this morning, you wouldn’t even have to ask. He’s not choosing to do this.”

“Okay man, it was just a thought.” Nick held up his hand defensively, then returned to looking at his phone again.

“Can’t one of you just turn into a bat and ask him?” Stu suggested.

“I can do it,” Deacon replied immediately, turning into a bat almost instantaneously.

There was a cacophony of squeaks and screeches and flapping wings, then Deacon was back in his humanoid form.

“Right, yes, forgot. That won’t actually work. Great suggestion though, don’t feel bad.” He patted Stu on the shoulder in consolation.

“What do you mean? Why not?” Anton asked.

Vlad heaved a put-upon sigh, as if it was a herculean effort just to exist in the same room as the werewolves – well, as Anton, specifically.

“Your tiny mind couldn’t possibly comprehend-”

“Bats don’t talk like we do,” Nick cut in, ignoring Vlad’s indignant huff. “It’s like when you guys transform, right? You’re not talking back and forth like normal. It’s like speaking a different language, but that language only has words for food, sex, and danger. Kind of lacks the nuance necessary for a situation like this.”

“That makes sense; should’ve thought of that,” Anton said. He looked so dejected that Viago wanted to fly to him, wanted to tell him not to worry and that it was a good try, regardless. But he stayed where he was, practiced by now at denying himself such urges.

“Were you able to get anything from him? A sense of danger? Is he okay?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Oh for the love of-” Anton cut himself off before finishing the blasphemy, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Too bad he’s barely as tall as a pencil, otherwise he could try to write what happened,” Nick said, looking over at the writing utensils on the desk behind Viago.

“I have an idea!” Stu said, walking over to their communal computer and turning it on. The ancient thing took forever to boot up and after three minutes of awkward silence while they waited to see Stu’s plan come to fruition, he moved a pile of dusty news papers aside, muttering “for fuck’s sake,” and “sorry Anton,” while he took something out of his rucksack.

Viago flew over to stand on his shoulder, trying to figure out what he was doing. After a minute or so, Anton clapped his hands together and exclaimed “that’s brilliant, mate. It’s so simple.”

Nick clapped Stu on the shoulder, nearly knocking Viago from his perch. He glared at the other vampire, but he didn’t take any notice. He thought about poking him with one of his claws, but got distracted by the shiny, black rectangle Stu had in his hands. It was very pretty and looked like it would be smooth if he could touch it with actual hands.  

The werewolf clicked a button and the rectangle lit up like Viago’d seen his phone do. A few taps and it opened to a blank screen. He set a keyboard in front of it, much smaller than the one their computer had, and reached for Viago. He let Stu place him on the desk in front of it.

“Here, now you can just type out what happened to you.”

Viago was not adept at typing on a good day, so having to locate the right keys and walk over to them one by one was no easy task, nor was it fast, but it was effective.

The keys did not make the same fun clickity-clack as the one’s on the vampires’ own keyboard, but they did feel nice under his little feet when he jumped on the space bar, even though they were a bit close together.

He heard a sound behind him and when he turned to look realized Anton was trying – and failing – to hide a smile behind his hand.

It was a pretty smile. He should do that more often, Viago thought, getting back to his writing.

It was difficult figuring out which parts to leave in and which to omit. He didn’t want to admit the curse was his own fault, but he also didn’t want to get Lydia unnecessarily killed by riling up his friends unintentionally. He loved them, but they tended to be the “kill first, ask questions later,” kind of group.

He took his time and carefully typed out the message:

wit ch  curswe. nioce witch. miusunderstyandin g. dont kil;l

“A witch? Do you have a name? A coven? Anything we can use to find them?” Anton asked, leaning in closer as if the witch’s address would suddenly appear on the screen if he looked hard enough.

Lydia blue hAir. met in partk

“Okay, well. That’s something, at least.”

“We must prepare for battle,” Vlad yelled in his booming voice.

Nooooo! That was the opposite of what Viago wanted.

“Hang on a minute.” Anton turned to face Vlad, who was attempting to pull a battleaxe off the wall. “He says it was a misunderstanding. No need to go in, guns blazing.”

“We do not need guns, idiot. We have fangs!” Deacon chimed in, hissing and spitting.

“That’s not…” Anton rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, trailing off, muttering to himself “pick your battles.”

“Why don’t we just go talk to her? We don’t need to start a war if it really was a misunderstanding,” Nick added helpfully for once.

“She attacked first!” Deacon snapped back, slamming his fist on the wall.

“Hey guys,” Stu cut in, effectively ending their debate for now. “We found her.”

While the others had been bickering, Stu had been scrolling through the faceapp thingy that Vlad liked so much, showing Viago picture after picture of Lydias in the Wellington area. There were more than he thought there’d be.

The witch who’d cursed him was on page 3 and, lucky for them, she’d listed her occupations (Master of Potions at Mojo Coffee; Actual Witch) right on the page for anyone to see.

Anton immediately suggested handling it alone, but the vampires wouldn’t hear of it, so after much loud and unnecessarily messy debate, it was decided that Anton, Stu, and Nick would approach her, and Vlad and Deacon would wait close by as reinforcements if things took a turn for the worse.

Viago didn’t really trust his friends not to charge in regardless, but they refused to stay home and truly it was very sweet of them to be so concerned.

Viago hid inside Anton’s jacket once more, pretending he didn’t see Nick clearly offer a ride in his messenger back.

He was already used to riding in Anton’s jacket, it only made sense to keep doing it, he reasoned, to absolutely no one but himself.

They arrived at the café listed on Lydia’s profile at a quarter to nine, right before the sign on their door said they closed. Stu had called before they left and the person had answered the phone with a cheerful “Mojo Coffee, this is Lydia speaking, how can I help you?” so they were pretty confident she would be there.

And there she was, wiping down the main counter, blue hair pulled into a messy bun and held in place by two pens.

Viago’s wings fluttered nervously and at once he felt the comforting weight of Anton’s hand coming up to cradle him against his chest in a protective embrace.

“It’ll be okay. I won’t let her do anything to you this time,” he said quietly, just for Viago’s pointy ears. “None of us will,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

It was nice, being talked to. Everyone kept talking around him and about him, leaving him out of the conversation – which, fair, he couldn’t speak. But he could still hear, and he could nod or shake his head! He felt left out enough as it was when he was a full-sized vampire, being unable to speak up for himself was compounding it tenfold. They barely even looked at him now!

But Anton kept finding little ways to include him in the conversation; kept throwing him the same kind of looks they shared when he wasn’t a bat – rolling his eyes at Deacon, or that look that said “what the fuck?” at something Vlad said – as if nothing had changed at all.

(Okay, yes, Stu was also still treating him the same as he always did, but Viago didn’t have a stupid, giant crush on Stu, so it didn’t matter.)

They walked into the café (a perfectly timed “Welcome!” aiding their passage) and pretended to look at the drink menu until the only other patron there left. Then it was just them and the witch.

“Hey guys, just so you know we close in about ten minutes, so what can I do for ya?”

“You can uncurse our friend,” Anton said, not mincing his words.

Her eyes darted to the door, but Nick was there in an instant, locking it and turning the “closed” sign.

He tutted at her, moving his finger back and forth before crossing his arms.

“Look, whatever it is you guys think I did, I probably didn’t do it. And if I did, it was an accident.”

“You throw out curses on accident a lot?” Anton asked. Lydia shrugged.

“I mean, you never get angry in traffic?”

“No.”

“In her defense, you’re a bad example,” Nick muttered.

Anton glared at him, then turned his attention back to the witch behind the counter.

“We’re not looking for a fight. Just remove the curse and we’ll be on our way,” he said in the kind of placating tone one might use to talk to a child that has just found a kitchen knife and is about to start racing around the room with it.  

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“The fucking curse you put on our fucking friend! Or do you go around cursing so many people every day that you don’t even remember? Fucking asshole witches,” Nick said, getting more animated by the second.

“Hey now, there’s no need for that kind of language. We can all be civil here,” Anton chastised, obviously skilled in the ways of deescalating situations. Viago thanked Satan again that the alpha had somehow managed to convince the rest of the vampires to stay outside. Dealing with witches could be a tricky business.

“Or maybe there is a need for that kind of language. Maybe we need a little more Big Bad Wolf and a little less family friendly park ranger-”

The witch – who Viago could see through the slit in Anton’s jacket had been slowly backing towards the door to the café’s back room while his friends were arguing amongst themselves – suddenly stopped, hear head snapping toward Anton.

“Did you say wolf?” A grin slowly spread over her face. “Your friend wouldn’t happen to be a vampire, would he? Dark hair, weird accent, dressed like he walked out of an Austen novel?”

“That would be him, yes.”

She squinted at the three of them, studying Anton particularly hard, and Viago was suddenly hit with the realization that this maybe wasn’t such a good idea.

What if she explained the curse? What if she told them all what he’d said? He’d been sad and lonely and not thinking straight, spilling his secrets to a stranger with the kind of unrestrained honesty that only came from knowing you were talking to someone neither you or anyone you knew would ever see again.

And now here he was. Seeing her again.

He left the safety of Anton’s jacket in a panic, ready to create some kind of distraction should she start sharing his secrets.

“There he is!” She clapped her hands in a cheerful little dance, like she had the night before. “Viago, right?”

His friends looked at each other, obviously not expecting this turn in conversation.

She looked at the three of them, assessing.

“One of you is a werewolf?”

Anton crossed his arms.

“What’s it to you?”

“Well… it just so happens he needs one to break the curse. So if that’s not you, I’ve got a few phone numbers…”

“No!” Anton snapped, a bit too loudly for the tiny space they were occupying. “No need to involve anyone else. What do I need to do?”

Lydia grinned broadly, leaning against the counter towards them.

“It wouldn’t be much of a curse if I just told you, silly. You’ve gotta figure it out. Or someone else could, I suppose. Doesn’t have to be you specifically, unless you’re, like, the alpha or something.”

She was toying with them, Viago knew. She knew that Anton was the Te Aro alpha and that, if this curse was some kind of fairytale test of true love it very much did need to be Anton because he wasn’t in lo-like, wasn’t in like with any of the other werewolves.

Anton rubbed his temple, sighing.

“Can’t you just undo it?”

“Technically, yes. It won’t be pretty though,” she told them, making herself a complicated-looking drink as she talked. “There are consequences to lifting curses early. Sometimes dire. Do you really want to risk it?”

They didn’t and it was obvious by the way they all looked at each other.

“Then tell us how to break the curse and we’ll do that.”

Viago held his breath (not that he needed to breathe, but sometimes when he was nervous, he would hold it like he used to do when he was alive; the way characters in books do when they’re waiting for something bad to happen).

Lydia took a sip of her drink, paused, added another spoonful of brown powder, sipped again, and finally replied.

“I can’t. You have to figure it out yourself otherwise it doesn’t work.”

“This is why people don’t like witches,” Nick told her.

“I was going to give you a hint, but if you’re going to be rude about it…”

“No, no, no. We’re sorry. Please, continue,” Anton said, glaring at Nick.

She licked her spoon, considering, then spoke.

“When truth is spoken through lips sealed,

What once was hidden will be revealed.

A secret exposed for all to see,

Natural enemies once, transformed will be.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“You know the whole not swearing thing really undermines the intimidation factor of this whole operation.”

“We’re not trying to be intimidating anymore. She’s cooperating.”

“Still.”

“United front guys,” Stu cut in, gesturing towards the witch, who was rolling her eyes at them. She waited until she had their attention again to continue.

“I really can’t say it any plainer than that. Everything you need’s right there,” she told them. She opened the cash register to start counting down the till, clearly dismissing them.

“Why are you doing this? Did he do something to piss you off? If so, he probably didn’t mean it. Viago wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Anton asked, coming to his defense yet again. It was sweet, even if it was entirely unnecessary.  

“He kills people pretty routinely,” Stu reminded him, quietly.

“Yeah, but not like, maliciously. The guy’s gotta eat.” That was true, Viago thought. He hadn’t toyed with his food in a very long time now, and he didn’t go out killing willy nilly, he was no glutton.

“This is a gift. You don’t understand it yet, but you will. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish closing up so I can leave this place. Some of us have better things to do on a Friday night than hanging out in a closed coffee shop.”

“Wait, what if we can’t figure it out? He’s just stuck like this forever?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, obviously ready to be done with the conversation entirely.

“Here’s the deal, if you can’t work it out by the end of the month, come back and I’ll reverse it. Can’t promise there won’t be any consequences though. That’s the best I can do for you, okay? You know where to find me, obviously. Now leave.”

The trio and Viago had to accept that was all they were going to get from her. In Viago’s opinion, the interaction went much better than it could’ve. Yes, he’d have preferred her to lift the spell immediately, but if it was a choice between spending a month as a bat and having her tell the world (because let’s face it, if Nick knew, everyone would know) about his hopeless crush on Anton, he would choose being a bat, hands – well, wings – down.

Outside of the café they reconvened with the others, recounting everything that had just happened.

“What secret are you hiding, wolf? And why is it Viago’s problem now?”

“How am I supposed to know? She made it sound like it could be any werewolf, not just me specifically. And the rhyme mentions enemies. Maybe it’s something to do with how vampires and werewolves are natural enemies? Maybe it’s about getting along?”

“We already do though, for the most part,” Stu added. “We’ve been having game nights and everything.”

“Maybe that’s not enough.”

“And how the hell is someone supposed to speak through sealed lips? Does she mean writing it down?”

“Viago can’t talk like this, maybe it has something to do with that. What do you think?” Anton asked, looking right at Viago, who was hovering near Deacon’s shoulder. He knew exactly what it meant. She’d told him in the park: true love’s kiss. But he was absolutely not telling any of them that, so he just shrugged.

They brainstormed well into the night about it, ending up back at the vampires’ house. Anton and Vlad did most of the brainstorming, while Deacon chimed in with unhelpful suggestions and the obligatory quarter-hourly insult and Nick and Stu played a video game in the background. Viago nodded where appropriate and waited for his friends to get bored and move on.

He appreciated the effort, but the best thing now would be for everyone to forget this ever happened and go about their normal lives/unlives until the witch turned him back of her own accord.

If they figured it out, Anton would feel obligated to try – Viago knew that was just the type of person Anton was – and he would feel horrible and guilty when it didn’t work because he didn’t love Viago and then everything would just be terribly awkward for the rest of time. Viago would have to move away, probably to a whole other continent, just to get away from it and that would suck because he was really starting to like it here.

His only consolation was that they weren’t even remotely close to figuring it out. Anton might’ve gotten close on his own, but Vlad kept derailing them with the most outlandish suggestions that Viago almost thought he was doing it on purpose.

“I’m hungry, who wants to go for a snack?” Nick asked, setting his game controller on the coffee table. They’d fed already before talking to the witch, but Nick always got the midnight munchies, what with still being rather young and not as in control of his urges. Viago usually politely declined his invitations, but he was feeling exceptionally famished this evening, probably due to all the stress.

Anton looked up from his place at the table and frowned, a distressed noise that Viago found quite adorable escaping his lips as his eyes found the clock.

“I’d best be off now, got to be up for work in less than five hours.” He stood, gathering the little scraps of paper they’d been using to write down ideas on. “I’ll come back by after dark. Maybe some rest will give us some perspective, yeah?” He was trying to sound optimistic, but Viago could tell he didn’t believe what he was saying.

No one else in the room seemed to either, and the vampires didn’t look thrilled by the idea of him coming back at all, but they shrugged and nodded permission all the same.

Viago waved with one wing, disappointed he had to leave so soon.

Silly humans and their silly jobs.

Once Anton left, the others went out to grab a bite to eat. Stu stayed back, happy to play his little game while he waited for Nick, who’d promised to come back with something fit for human consumption.  

It’d been a while since Viago had hunted as a bat, so he contented himself with leftovers snagged from Vlad’s and Deacon’s victims, as he’d done earlier (but not from Nick’s because he was being selfish and wouldn’t share). He returned home sated and sleepy after an exhausting twenty four hours.

And that’s when the trouble started.

Chapter Text

Crashes and shouts drowned out the hard knocking coming from the front door, but the sudden appearance of a werewolf caused a temporary truce as all the vampires turned at once to stare at Anton. He was standing in the doorway, unlocked door closing behind him, taking in the chaos with a concerned expression on his face that softened slightly when his eyes found Viago.

He gave a little awkward wave and the group relaxed slightly.

“Hey guys, what’s with all the commotion?” 

“Someone,” Nick cut his eyes over at Viago, the very embodiment of the phrase ‘staring daggers,’ “is being a picky fucking princess, so no one got any sleep today.”

Anton looked around at room, eyeing the bits of broken furniture and shards of glass wearily. Viago tried not to let the embarrassment get to him. He tried so hard to keep the place nice and tidy, especially when guests were coming over, but his friends had no consideration for keeping up appearances. They were slobs at the best of times and today was most certainly not the best of times.  

“All this from missing a little shut eye?”

“Vampires need their rest. You wouldn’t understand,” Deacon sneered, drifting down from the ceiling where he’d been hissing at his companions only moments ago. He brushed a bit of plaster from his shoulder onto the floor.

“I work twelve hour shifts AND manage an entire pack of werewolves, I think I know a thing or two about being sleep deprived,” Anton snapped back.

“It’s not the same. We need it more than you,” Deacon retorted.

“Right, whatever.” Anton rolled his eyes, turning back to Nick who, despite also being alarmingly grouchy, still seemed like the best option when it came to getting straight answers from the vampires. That was one of the (many) reasons Viago was glad it was the alpha who had come to visit them and not any of the other wolves (except perhaps Stu): he was good at not rising to the bait, even when the vampires were trying very, very hard to bait him. “What’s the problem then?”

All of the vampires simultaneously pointed to Viago.

He responded in kind by sticking his tongue out at them since he couldn’t speak to defend himself. They were being the problem, not him.

“He won’t go to sleep and he’s making it everyone else’s problem.”

Viago screeched, indignant. It wasn’t his fault!

“What do you mean?” Anton asked, carefully navigating his way further into the living room towards the sideboard Viago was pacing on, avoiding the debris that littered the floor. Viago’s wings were flapping back and forth rapidly, agitated at the FALSE accusations being thrown his way.

“His coffin lid is too heavy for his bat form to move and he’s refusing to let us shut him in there even though we all promised to remember to let him out.”

Anton looked at each of them pointedly, then back at Nick with a raised eyebrow.

“Would you trust you lot to remember that kind of thing?”

Nick huffed in that way he did when he knew he was wrong but didn’t want to admit it.

“Whatever.” He pulled out his phone and starting tapping away at it, exiting the conversation. Viago felt the petty urge to fly over and snatch it from him and hide it somewhere very high up and difficult to reach, but he valiantly resisted.

“I offered him to share my closet – I sleep upside down like a bat, he is a bat, it makes sense – but he kept falling down and making an awful racket, so I had to kick him out,” Deacon said, giving a very abridged account of what had transpired between them.

(Viago would have liked to add all of the nasty insults Deacon had thrown at him when he couldn’t get comfortable; the ones about being bad at being a vampire and a bat. Those had hurt his feelings.)

“Well yeah, you hang upside down on a curtain rod. That sort of thing’s no good for bat feet, they’re tiny, man. He needs something smaller, don’t you?” Anton said, coming to his defense yet again.

Finally, someone with some sense!

Viago nodded. His poor toes were sore from trying to cling to the smooth curtain rod, his little claws couldn’t find purchase and, though this body was supposedly built for it, he didn’t enjoy sleeping upside down the way Deacon did. It made him feel too exposed and decidedly off kilter, not safe and secure like his coffin did.  

“I mean, I guess. Whatever. Anyway, then Vlad offered.”

“The triplets and I were more than willing to make room for him, but our dear Viago can be so prudish. Sometimes I wonder how he is a vampire at all!” Vlad cut in, a bit unkindly if you asked Viago. He wasn’t a prude, he just didn’t want to be a part of… that. He just wanted to sleep. That was all.

“Yeah, so that was out so obviously it was down to just me, which was fine,” Nick said, picking up the narrative once more. “The basement has plenty of places for a bat to get some sleep. It should’ve been fine.”

Anton rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, sighing.   

“What happened?”

“He woke me up an hour in picking my laundry up off the floor and being bloody loud about it!”

“Yeah, no I can see how that would be a problem,” Anton said, nodding. Viago felt a little betrayed by that, having assumed the werewolf would be on his side again seeing as how they usually bonded over how difficult it was to get the members of their respective groups to clean up after themselves. Anton continued, in a chastising tone that caught both Viago and Nick off guard. “You know how difficult it is for him to relax when there’s a mess about the place. You could’ve tidied up a bit, mate.”

“It’s my room!”

“Enough talking! It feels like someone is sticking a thousand needles inside my ears and tickling my brain. And not in a good way,” Vlad lamented, draping himself across the sofa and throwing an arm across his eyes for dramatic effect. He let his silk robe fall open, exposing his bare chest for all to see.

It wasn’t fair.

Vlad didn’t even like werewolves, but he loved flaunting his handsomeness all over the place. And it wasn’t like he knew about Viago’s little crush, so he wasn’t being intentionally cruel, he was just being himself. But it felt especially cruel to have to see the way Anton was no doubt looking at him.

Only, he wasn’t.

He was looking at Viago, giving him that exasperated, confused look they usually shared when Vlad said something particularly outlandish.

“Not sure how that could ever been in a good way,” Anton muttered under his breath. Viago hoped Vladislav was not in a mood to explain. He could be extremely detail oriented when he wanted to. “Come on guys, it couldn’t have been that bad. It’s just until we figure out how to break the curse.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick snapped, his eyes red and wide from frustration and lack of sleep. “You try dealing with a fussy fucking Goldilocks of a bat who hasn’t slept in two days and can’t talk but somehow still has the ability to be a judgmental prick about where he sleeps. Ow!”

Viago would feel bad about biting him later. Probably. But for now, he felt a great sense of satisfaction to see him cradling his hand to his chest and pouting about it.  

There’s no need to be so rude. 

Viago was just as tired as everyone else. More so! He had been awake for an entire day more than the others. And they were all being very mean and inconsiderate about it. 

“Okay,” Anton said. 

The vampires stared at him. 

“What? My house is vampire-proofed,” oh? Viago thought. Since when? Had he planned on inviting Viago over when he came here tonight, or had he done it just in case something like this happened again in the future? That seemed like something he would do. “And since you lot can’t handle it,” that started off a chorus of “hang on!” And “wait just a minute!” But he was right. They’d just been complaining, hadn’t they? 

“What do you say, Viago? Wanna give it a shot?” He asked directly to Viago, ignoring the others’ indignant protests. “If you still can’t settle, we’ll figure something else. Maybe I can borrow a bat box from work and we can see if you like that instead?”

Viago was already nodding. Anton’s room was much cleaner than Nick’s and maybe if he was lucky, he could snuggle the stuffed wolf again. Anton hadn’t minded last time. 

“Great. Well, that’s that sorted.” He clapped his hands together and turned to face Viago, opening his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by Vladislav bodily placing himself in between the two of them, his back to the bat.

“I don’t know about this, wolf. How do we know you’re not planning to kill him once you have him back in your lair, alone and defenseless during the daylight hours?”

Viago wanted to bang his head against the wall. He just wanted to go to sleep. Why wouldn’t they let him sleep????

“Because I’ve already had him alone in my lair - my house - alone and defenseless during daylight hours and he’s still alive? Also, I don’t kill my friends? Also,” Vlad cut him off with a hand wave.

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point. Fine.” Vlad relented then turned to Nick, snapping his fingers and pointing up the stairs. “Go and fetch some of Viago’s dirt so he may slumber at the wolf’s den.”

“It’s just a house,” Anton muttered under his breath.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you are the youngest and I said so!” 

“I hate all of you.”

Nick came back a few moments later with a plastic baggy of dirt and instructions for Anton on what it was and what to do with it. It was unanimously decided that no curse-breaking work would be done tonight; everyone was too on edge and exhausted to come up with anything new and it wasn’t worth the risk to life and limb for a werewolf to be around them, even if it was one they were usually friendly-ish with.

“I know they’re your friends, but they can be real dicks sometimes,” Anton told him as they made their way back to his house, a little growl escaping him.

He shook it off with a few deep breaths.

Viago shrugged in response. He couldn’t argue with that. He often overlooked it because they were his friends – and indeed, he would get over this most recent transgression after a good day’s sleep – but he could not deny the truth of Anton’s words.

It was okay though, everyone was a dick sometimes.

“Have you eaten yet?” Anton asked as they passed through town. The grumble of his own stomach must’ve reminded him that it was getting late for dinner, even for a vampire. Many of the shops were already closed, but there were a few restaurants still serving the humans milling about at eleven o’clock on a Thursday night.

Viago shook his head.

They’d all been so distracted yelling at each other that they hadn’t had a moment to consider eating. It had never even crossed Viago’s mind. Probably for the best, as he didn’t feel like eating with any of them anyway.

That did leave the question of how he was going to get his dinner though…

“Are you gonna be okay to hunt like that?” Anton asked, as if reading his thoughts.

Theoretically, it should be fine. He’d hunted as a bat before and while it was certainly more difficult in some ways – he couldn’t use hypnosis or persuasion, people were generally scared of things flying at them – it was easier in others. It was ideal if he could find someone who was sleeping or passed out; he’d been hit by flailing limbs before and wasn’t keen on experiencing that again.

Regardless, he would make do. He was not some helpless creature that needed assistance feeding himself. Besides, he needed less blood during a feeding like this, so a quick bite would suffice if he could find the right victim. 

Even though he was very sleepy.

He motioned for Anton to leave him to it, earning him a soft smile.  

“All right then. I’ll be quick. Try not to get into any trouble,” the werewolf told him, winking before turning away to obtain his own dinner through more traditional means.

Traditional for a human at least.

Hunting as a bat was perhaps the most traditional form of hunting for a vampire, Viago mused as he flew around looking for an easy target.

Turned out, that street was apparently all out of easy for the evening; the only remaining options included difficult, very difficult, and risk of bodily harm from a screaming woman shouting about flying rodents and calling the health department.

He supposed he wasn’t that hungry anyway. He’d gone way longer without food in the past, he could wait until there was a better opportunity in the future. That is how smart vampires stay alive anyway (well, undead, as it were).

He met back up with Anton, hovering just out of sight in a tree surrounded by concrete and metal until the man in question exited a burger joint. He immediately looked to the sky, eyes searching for something that Viago could only assume was him.

It sent a warm little wave through his body to be so sought after, and he wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have Anton’s attention always and freely, not because he felt obligated or because of some stupid curse, just because he wanted Viago to have it.

He flew down to meet him, taking up his comfortable perch on Anton’s shoulder for the rest of their walk, listening to him talk about his day – the stupid kids caught spray painting vulgarities on rock faces (“the worst part is, they didn’t even spell it right!”), the petty goings on of his coworker who thought his life was some television drama (“honestly, the worst thing that’s ever happened to him was when he dropped his soup down the front of his trousers the other day, and it wasn’t even hot! He’s got no idea what drama is. Try being an alpha to a pack of immature werewolves and friend to a group – pod? Colony? That’s what it is for bats. Do you know the word is for a group of vampires?” Viago nodded, he did know. They were called a coven – which was dumb in his opinion because it made them sound like witches and they were most definitely not witches. “Is it that?” Viago shook his head. Anton shrugged. “Figured. You can tell me when you’re back to speaking form. Anyway, where was I?”) – and nightdreaming about doing this every night for the rest of existence.

Eventually, Anton ran out of steam with regards to work matters and grew silent. If Viago didn’t know any better, he might say the wolf was acting nervous, but why would he be nervous?

Was he having second thoughts about letting Viago stay with him? Did he just realize what a huge thing he was doing, offering a vampire free access to his home, the place where his pack came and went freely at any given time?

Maybe he had come to his senses during their walk and now he was trying to find a nice way to let Viago know he would not be welcome after all; that he was rescinding his invitation.

Viago’s own inner monologue was being loud enough that he didn’t realize at first when Anton started speaking again. He was fidgeting; shoving his hands in his pockets, then bringing them back out only to fiddle with the zip on his coat or rub the back of his neck.

This was it. He was going to tell Viago to leave now.

Viago braced himself for the impact of those words before tuning back in.

“… and I didn’t mean for it to be weird or anything – don’t feel obligated to stay just because of the changes. We needed to implement them anyway for when I host game nights, I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Nathan G’s girlfriend – she’s a wiz with a sewing machine – she’s had the curtains made for ages now, and I’d taken the measurements for the shutters a while back, just didn’t get the time, but the boys pitched in today – anyway, I just… I know we tend to think similarly sometimes and if I were in your position, I wouldn’t want to feel like I was an imposition to anyone, and I want you to know that you aren’t. You’re always welcome here, whether you’re a bat or not. If you ever need a place to crash or just some time away from the others. And now its safe no matter what time of day it is.”

Viago felt that urge to cry again, only this time it was nice tears.

His claws instinctually tightened on Anton’s shoulder to stop him toppling over from the sheer weight of those words and their meaning. He stared at the side of Anton’s face for a long time, the slight blush on his cheeks, the nervous way he was biting his lip as if to physically restrain himself from continuing to ramble.

He was almost glad for being unable to speak because he didn’t know what he would say if he could.

They had arrived at Anton’s house, which now sported distinctly new and very sturdy-looking shutters over each window. They were all closed from what Viago could see, except one small window on the second floor. Anton noticed him noticing and explained.

“My work schedule’s a bit all over the place. I should be home before dark tomorrow, but if not, that window can be left open so you can come and go as you please once it’s dark. The way the bathroom is angled upstairs doesn’t allow for the sunlight to spill out too much so it’s still safe for you be to about during the day, so long as you don’t fly directly into it.”

Viago wasn’t sure what to do with the big feeling that was happening inside his chest, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped his wings around Anton’s neck in his best approximation of a hug that could be achieved in this body. He felt the breath leave Anton’s body in a heave, like he’d been holding it for some reason.

He brought a hand up and placed it on Viago’s back, returning the hug. It was over almost as soon as it began, but Viago knew he would remember how it felt for as long as he existed.

Anton unlocked the door, then immediately upon removing his shoes and noticing the two other pair next to the door, groaned.

“Shoot, I forgot. The Nathans said they might crash here after finishing up with the reno. No worries, I can kick one of them out to the couch, they can fall asleep anywhere… or that.” Viago wasn’t paying much attention to what Anton was saying anymore. As soon as they were across the threshold, he made a beeline for the king sized bed and cloud-soft plushie, landing perfectly (only barely toppling over, it was entirely intentional) on its head. 

He was squeezing the soft fibers in his toes when he heard Anton’s chuckle, the alpha walking into the bedroom with his baggy of dirt in hand. 

“What do I do with this?”

Viago flew down to the floor and walked under the bed then back out, looking up at Anton. 

“Ah, of course. Makes sense. Do I take it out of the bag?”

Viago shook his head. Best not to. Just in case someone got to vacuuming or there was a strong wind. 

Anton bent down on his knees and placed the bag in the center of the floor under the bed, then straightened back up, making a grab for his blanket and a pillow.

The motion jostled Viago where he was smooshing down the plushie between a pillow to get it just right and he frowned, reaching for Anton’s sleeve with what he hoped was a questioning look.

“Gonna go crash on the couch so you can get some rest in here. The door’ll be open, but don’t worry, everything is sealed up tight, I light tested it earlier myself. You’re safe here.”

Viago looked back at the bed then at Anton, opening his wing to gesture at all the space he wasn’t taking up. He pointed to himself then pushed the stuffed wolf to the floor and glided down after it in an attempt to let Anton know he was fine sleeping under the bed instead of on top of it. He didn’t need much room, and his friend had already done so much for him, he was not so ungrateful as to demand the man’s entire room to himself.

Before he could make much headway at all dragging the wolf under the bed, Anton was picking it up and moving it back to where it was, and Viago right along with it!

“Absolutely not. You’re a guest. Besides, I haven’t vacuumed under there in ages.” He reached for his pillow again, but Viago was there in an instant, wings crossed and stern expression on his tiny face.

Anton schooled his own expression into something neutral, but not before Viago caught him trying not to laugh.

Damn this adorable bat body! I am being very serious!

“You’re very stubborn, you know that?”

Viago nodded once, curtly.

Anton sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“Fine, but it’s not my fault if I roll over and squash you in the middle of the night. Last time could’ve been a fluke. I’m usually a very fitful sleeper. And my alarm’s set to go off in a few hours; it’s pretty obnoxious.”

Viago gave a nonchalant shrug. Anton would not squash him, he was sure of that, and a silly alarm would not wake him from the slumber he was about to succumb to. All this negotiating had zapped the very last of his energy reserves and it was taking all he had just to crawl back to his spot and snuggle up cozily in the little wolf’s embrace. 

“Sweet dreams Viago,” he heard Anton say. His eyelids were too heavy to keep open, no matter how hard he tried. “If bats do dream. If vampires dream. I don’t actually know…” 

Anton’s words faded into nothingness as the sweet release of darkness finally took hold. 

Chapter Text

The sun still hung low in the sky as Anton pulled into his driveway, arriving home from work with enough time to spare before dark for a shower and a quick bite to eat.

If someone had asked him two years ago if he ever thought he’d be coming home to a vampire asleep in his bed, he’d’ve balked at the idea. Just the concept would’ve been revolting, enough to make the wolf bristle under his skin. To have an undead creature not just in his home, but in his bed? Absolutely absurd.

Unimaginable.

Terrifying.

Disgusting.

If you had asked him a week ago if he ever thought he’d be coming home to a vampire asleep in his bed, he’d’ve sighed wistfully and said no, because miracles are not real, and wishes don’t come true for people like him. Monsters don’t get to have happy endings. Or middles, really. Sure, some of the lads had partners and they made it work well enough, but that sort of thing wasn’t in the cards for Anton. There was too much that came with being an alpha, too much of himself that he had to share, had to ask someone else to share, to understand. And if all of that wasn’t reason enough, his treacherous heart had gone and given itself to a vampire of all creatures!  And of course, it couldn’t’ve been some abstract concept of a vampire, someone he’d met in passing and would never see again, oh no. It had to be Viago.

Sweet, deadly, quirky Viago who, up until recently, he’d considered an enemy. They were friends now, and he was happy with that. Thrilled. Completely and totally satisfied with being Viago’s friend.

He just…

Sometimes, it felt like the vampire wanted more too, and that’s what made it so difficult to stop thinking about. There were moments where they would both be in the kitchen together, or off on the sidelines watching their friends from afar for any signs of imminent outburst, which felt… different. Charged. Like they were on the cusp of something neither of them was brave enough to explore. He would dissect those moments over and over again until he’d convinced himself it was all in his head, that he’d been making it up that Viago might be feeling the same way.

Sure, he sometimes stood a little too close, let his eyes linger a little too long, but he was from a different time, social norms of today meant nothing to him. He probably didn’t even flirt in any kind of way recognizable to Anton.

And why would he need to? Anton didn’t need to know how he flirted because he would never be the recipient of it.

He was actually a little glad for the idea of not being able to recognize it. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle knowingly watching Viago flirting with someone else in front of him.

Which, again, would probably never happen because he was a vampire and there was no way in hell that he would ever be attracted to a werewolf (which was the majority of who they hung out with, since other vampires weren’t as open-minded as Viago and his friends).

Anton had only spent a decade or so knowing about and hating vampires, Viago had centuries of ingrained prejudice to relearn. Even if he was doing a great job of befriending the werewolves, there was no way his heart was as clueless and treacherous as Anton’s.

With all of that in mind, it was really doing Anton’s head in to come home to not just a vampire asleep in his bed, but Viago specifically, asleep in his bed. Cuddling the stuffed toy he’d been given by his boys as a gag gift on his first birthday with an actual pack, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

(In a perfect world, a world where Anton was allowed to have nice things, he did).    

He tried not to think too hard about it as he collected a change of clothes and took himself to the guest bathroom to shower off the day’s grit and grime.

He kept the shower quick and perfunctory, keeping his mind as blank as possible.

He’d already spent every free moment of his workday thinking about what the witch’s words might mean, but he’d come up with nothing.

That wasn’t entirely true; he’d come up with something, but it was utterly wrong. Just a besotted brain seeing connections where there weren’t any.

Was the first thing he thought of when the witch said “when truth is spoken through lips sealed” a kiss? Yes. Was that the answer? Absolutely not. His life was not a Disney movie. True love’s kiss was never the answer to anyone’s problems, and Anton sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s true love.

After the shower he threw together a dinner of leftovers the lads somehow hadn’t nicked yet and busied himself tidying up until the sun fully set.

There were a few dished left in the sink, not enough to run the dishwasher, so he turned the water on and tried to let the routine of a repetitive task bring him relaxation. It rarely worked, but it was worth a shot.  

He’d gotten in the habit of removing his shirt when he washed dishes because for some reason, no matter how hard he tried, he could not wash a single dish without getting water all over himself and frankly he was sick of getting shit about it from the boys. Though he did manage to get them to shut up when he threatened to stop washing altogether. But it never lasted.

Something changed in the air and Anton had only a moment to register it before his ears picked up the movement of bat wings making their way toward his kitchen.

He finished the last dish, not wanting to seem too eager, and turned around just in time to see Viago tumbling out of the air apropos of nothing he could see. The vampire caught himself just before he hit the ground, swooping up to park himself on the counter.  

“You okay?” he asked, wiping his hands on a dishtowel before pulling his tee shirt back on. Viago nodded and held up a claw in an approximation of a thumbs up.

A buzzing from the kitchen table drew Anton’s attention away. There was a text from the vampires – Nick, to be precise.

N: How’s Goldilocks? Manage to sleep through the day or did he give you shit too?

A: Slept like the dead. He laughed to himself at the pun and tilted his phone for Viago to see, since the conversation was about him.

N: How nice for you.

N: That mean you’re cool with him staying over there until the curse lets up?

“That’s up to you, mate. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

He nodded, so Anton wrote back an affirmative.

A: Yeah, of course.

N: Great. Let him know we’re going out for dinner @ 12 if he wants to come with. I’ll share if he’s not still mad about yesterday.

“Still mad?”

Viago shook his head.

A: He forgives you.

N: I told Vlad he wouldn’t hold a grudge.

Anton held his tongue on the matter, despite his belief that Viago really ought to be holding a grudge. The vampires’ dynamic was so different from the werewolves’ in so many things, but especially when it came to how they treated each other. He supposed maybe it came with living for eternity, learning to look out for only yourself as a sort of defense mechanism, but it still shocked him sometimes how callous they could be towards one another.

Still, it was obvious they cared, in their own way.

They probably found it just as weird how in each other’s pockets all the werewolves were.

Anton put the phone back in his pocket, realizing belatedly that offering Viago to stay meant that they would be spending the whole night together. Multiple nights together, depending on how long it took them to break the curse.

Shit, he did not think this through. What the heck were they supposed to do now? If Viago was himself the nights could easily be passed by talking; they were always the last two chatting at their get-togethers and he could listen to Viago ramble on just about anything for hours, but that wasn’t an option like this.

He remembered Stu’s idea with the tablet and brought his laptop over to the coffee table to offer Viago the means to communicate, should he want it. Maybe he had an idea of how to spend the rest of the night.  

“So… what should we do?” He gestured to the blank computer screen and watched Viago’s eyes light up. He flew over to it immediately, searching the keyboard for the letters he wanted.

whAt do you usuall;y do

“You can use abbreviations to make it easier on yourself.” Viago tilted his head. “For instance, the letter U instead of typing the whole word y o u. Or C for s e e or s e a. Things like that. Actually, here I can just look up a list for you.” Anton grabbed the laptop from the table and pulled up the internet browser, searching for a list of text abbreviations. He clicked through a few before he found one formatted easily with more common words and less slang; more the kind of words Viago might be using.

The vampire fluttered in the air around him - an action he was coming to recognize as excitement - and settled on Anton’s thigh right in front of the computer.

Anton debated internally while Viago studied the screen whether or not to move the laptop back to the coffee table or over to the desk so Viago didn’t have to be so close. Then again, he hadn’t made any protest, and he could easily have chosen to stand on the keyboard itself instead of on Anton, so was it really necessary?

This internal struggle went on so long that by the time he decided yes, it would be more appropriate to just move the computer back and give Viago his space, the bat in question was motioning for him to scroll the page down and it would’ve been more awkward to abruptly move the computer somewhere else. Besides, he still needed to work the mouse pad (it didn’t respond to Viago’s claws) so really the proximity was functional and not at all selfish and self-indulgent.

After a few minutes, Viago pointed to the word doc icon and Anton pulled it up, fiddling with the sizes of the windows so that some of the abbreviation list could be seen side by side with the blank word doc.

what do u want 2 do

Viago’s excitement was infectious, and Anton could help but smile with him.

“Honestly, I usually just watch some tv or read when I get off work. You picked the boring wolf to hang out with, sorry mate.”

not boring ur lovely

Anton’s cheeks felt warm reading the words.

Read 2 me

“Oh.” For some reason he hadn’t expected that response. “Right, yeah no that works. Pick something?”

Viago flew back into his bedroom and Anton got up to see what he would pick. There were a few bookcases in the rest of the house, but his favorites were stored in his bedroom. The copies he didn’t want getting borrowed or damaged; the well loved ones with worn pages and annotated margins.

He watched Viago pace his shelves, gently dragging his wing along the spines as he read their titles. He tried not to feel embarrassed about the eclectic collection – books of poetry interspersed with volumes of sci-fi and fantasy. A copy of The Hobbit he’d gotten when he was ten sat next to The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde he’d bought as required reading in college; a thrift shop copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets lived next to a string of Vonnegut novels he’d discovered when he was nineteen, then rediscovered in his thirties.

An excited squeak brought his attention to what Viago had discovered and was jumping up and down in front of: Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He probably could’ve guessed that’s what the vampire would pick, but it was cute to watch him choose it so carefully from the rest. He grabbed the book and went back to the couch to get comfortable, trying desperately to remember if he’d written anything embarrassing in the margins.

He’d last read it about a year ago, after the pack had started hanging out with the vampires, and he knew his annotations had been influenced by those interactions. He could only pray he hadn’t put anything too incriminating into writing.

He’d been harboring this crush for a while.

They made it a few chapters in before Anton noticed Viago was trembling.

“Are you okay?” He turned to look at the bat, who was laying stretched out with most of his body on the back of the couch and his head propped on Anton’s shoulder. Viago moved to sit up, but overbalanced and went tumbling off the back of the couch. Anton’s quick reflexed caught him before he could hit the floor, which was concerning, since he should’ve just spread his wings and flown.

Anton sat him carefully on the couch cushion, safely away from the edge.

Viago pointed to his head and made a twirling motion with his claw.

“You’re dizzy?” Anton interpreted.

He nodded, then clung to a throw pillow like he thought he might fall down again.

“And you’re shaking. Do you have a headache?”

A single, slow nod.

“When did you last eat? Last night, right?”

Viago shook his head.

“Wha- Vi! You said you could hunt like that!”

He shrugged, looking sad and small in his pained state. Anton reeled it back a bit. He’d been told he could get a little overbearing in his protectiveness, and he didn’t want Viago to take it the wrong way.

He brought the laptop back over to Viago so he could reply in words if he wanted to.

“You probably just need to eat something.”

gone days b4

“Maybe it’s different as a bat? Actual bats need to eat way more than that.” They’d worked with some bat rehabbers a few times at the park, and he’d seen their strict nutrition plans while they were nurturing the injured creatures back to health.

dont feel like hubnting

Anton bit his lip, looking around as if a solution to their problem would be lying around the house. Fuck. There really was only one solution to this problem.

“I don’t think I’m comfortable bringing you a victim…” He knew, intellectually, that Viago killed people. It was a simple fact of his existence, like not breathing or turning into a bat. But knowing about it and being actively complicit in the act were two different things. He spent a most of his time actively avoiding manslaughter if he could help it.

its ok I can wait 4 dinner

Viago’s typing was even slower than before, his involuntary shaking leading to more mistypes and erasures. Anton noticed him squinting as well and immediately turned the brightness down on the screen, kicking himself mentally for not doing it sooner. His poor bat eyes were probably super sensitive to it to begin with, let alone with a headache and dizziness to boot.

“Nick said around midnight,” he glanced at the clock, it had barely gone eight. “That’s hours away, man. You need to eat now.”

Viago shrugged.

He looked so sad and helpless; every instinct inside of Anton was screaming at him to help, to fix, to provide.

“Fuck,” Anton said, his body and mind already in agreeance about what to do, despite his sense of reason frantically trying to counter the plan.

Swea

“Yeah, yeah swearwolf I know. All right, look. I’m trusting you here, okay?” His own hand trembled slightly as he turned it palm up, offering himself to Viago.

Viago tilted his head, his little forehead wrinkling as he looked at Anton’s wrist, then back to his face.

“I know I’m not as tasty as whatever Nick’s got on the menu for later, but it’ll have to do for now, okay? We can see if he can get some blood bags for the future in case this happens again, but right now there’s no need for you to keep suffering when I’ve got plenty to spare.”

His healing factor would kick in the moment Viago started feeding from him anyway, replacing whatever he took in a matter of minutes, maybe an hour or two if got overzealous. He likely couldn’t take that much at his current size, though if he were back to himself, he could certainly take enough to give the werewolf healing a run for its money.

Viago took a tentative step forward, then another, watching Anton’s face as he closed the distance between them. Anton schooled his face into an open and inviting expression, a soft smile on his lips and a nod for encouragement. He had plenty of practice keeping his heart rate in check, so he put it to good use, breathing deep and steady as he prepared for the bite.

Anton was utterly unprepared for how not awful it was being bit by a vampire.

He’d heard stories, obviously, about the violence of it, the brutality. He’d even witnessed it a few times for himself. A messy affair of futile struggling and punctured arteries.

This… was not that.

Granted, he’d never seen a vampire feed as a bat, and maybe he would’ve been screaming in pain and fear if Viago was in human form, but something told him this particular vampire’s bite would feel the same to him regardless: gentle, tentative, sweet.

It felt less like a sacrifice and more like a gift he was giving; a gift Viago received graciously, reverently, eagerly.

The first moments of the bite were the worst – though that still only registered maybe a three out of ten pain-wise. Anton had endured far worse than a couple of tiny pinpricks – and the rest was just… odd. A strange, heady mixture of lapping and sucking sensations and the scent of his own blood combining with the actual blood loss to leave him lightheaded.

He tried very hard not to think about Viago drinking from him at another time, in another setting, both of them human shaped and pressed close together, Viago’s lips at his throat, his strong hands holding Anton’s head still even as his body squirmed…

Yeah, he definitely did not need to be thinking about that right now.

He turned his focus instead to Viago’s experience. He’d heard the vampires make jokes about feeding off various members of the pack before and how disgusting it would taste. He wondered if it was true, if his blood was revolting to Viago, if he was forcing it down out of necessity and hating every second of it. He felt a pang of disappointment at the thought, then chided himself for being so very not normal about this situation. It wasn’t normal to be nervous about the quality of his blood or to wonder whether there was something he could do to make it taste better in the future – not that Viago would need to feed from him again. This was a fluke, a one off. He’d make sure he had a fresh supply of blood bags from here on out, just in case.

The gentle lapping slowed, then ceased. Anton watched as the skin of his wrist slowly knit itself back together, the two tiny holes Viago’s fangs had left behind completely disappeared, leaving no trace.

Viago looked a little dazed himself, blinking a few times and sticking his tongue out to try and reach the drops of blood that clung to his fur.

“Here,” he grabbed a tissue from a box on the side table, dabbing gently at Viago’s chin. “Feel better?”

He watched in what felt like slow motion as Viago took stock of himself, rolling his head, his shoulders, wiggling his “fingers” and toes. Self-inspection done, a huge grin broke out over his face and he flew into the air in a somersault, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Good, that’s good.” Anton grinned back but had to grab hold of the armrest as when he moved, the room moved with him. “Should’ve planed this out better. Wait here a sec, I need to grab some juice.”

He carefully stood up and made his way into the kitchen, managing not to bump into anything on his way there.

A glass of orange juice and a few biscuits that he’d hidden in the cabinet over the fridge that no one ever looked in later and he felt good as new.

He returned to the living room to see Viago hopping up and down, pointing at a message on the computer.

lets go oout

“Out? You need more blood?”

Viago shook his head vigorously, typing a quick clarification. 

woods. want 2 fly

Anton chuckled at the restless bat, entirely transformed after his snack it seemed. He was feeling a bit restless as well, the adrenaline of their encounter still thrumming in his refilling veins.

run w me

plz

Anton felt his heart skip at the request, the wolf stirring in the back of his mind. Viago’s big brown eyes were staring up at him pleadingly, as if he would ever refuse Viago something that was so easily within his power to give.

“Good idea. Let’s go.”

The night was a pleasant temperature, cut through with the occasional chilly breeze that Viago would catch for an easy glide as they made their way into the woods near the clearing the pack used for transformation nights. It was out of the way enough that humans rarely came upon it. A safe space for a run; a safe space for the wolf to stretch its legs.

They stopped at the clearing, but Anton motioned for Viago to keep going.

“Go on, I’ll catch up,” he said, bending a leg in a warmup stretch. He was a little stiff from being on his feet all day, but nothing could discourage the wolf from going on a run when the opportunity presented itself. It was one of those unconscious urges he had to actively fight if he didn’t want to give in. Luckily, both halves of himself were on the same page this time.

Viago flew ahead, then back, tapping Anton on the head then flying off a few yards away before turning back to wait for him. 

It took him a second to figure out what he was trying to say, mostly because it was so ridiculous it never would’ve crossed his mind.

“You want to play tag?”

Viago did a somersault and nodded his head in excitement. 

What would the Vampiric Counsel think of that? What would the supernatural community at large think of that?

Anton thought about it for a second and found that he really didn’t care.

He slipped off his shoes and jacket in preparation for the partial change he knew was likely to happen. You couldn’t just ask a werewolf to chase you and not expect the wolf to come to out to play.

It was irresponsible and reckless, what he was about to do. Two things he wasn’t allowed to be. Not anymore.

He reminded himself that they were safe out here, that he’d chosen this spot for a reason and in all the months they’d been using it as a transformation spot, they’d never encountered a single human, or any other supernatural creatures for that matter.

He could be a little reckless.

That little voice in the back of his mind that was always waiting for the other shoe to drop told him not to get cocky and that he could never let his guard down, but Viago was looking at him with so much hope and want in those wide, imploring eyes, beckoning him to come play, that he decided, just this once, to ignore it.

The cool night air burned in his lungs and his blood sang in his veins. The wolf was riding right under the surface, and he could feel it in every meter that passed under his bare feet, the itch in his gums as his teeth elongated, the pinch of his nails as they grew to claws. The full moon was still almost a fortnight away, but he could feel her pull all around him even if she was hidden from view. 

The wolf was awake and ready to give chase. 

Viago was fast but his scent was unmistakable, even like this, and try as he might to sneak up on Anton, he failed every. Single. Time. 

“You can’t hide from me, little bat,” he called into the dark forest, the laugh in his throat turning into a howl in his mouth. 

Viago watched him from the treetops, swooping down low in a teasing dive before zooming straight up and out of the wolf’s reach once again. 

Anton yipped and ran after him once again, their little game of tag morphing into a hybrid sort of hide and seek.

The world before him shifted into a dichromatic landscape as the wolf took over his vision. He knew his eyes would be bright yellow now instead of their usual color, the monster inside of him fighting for dominance, but he put up no resistance – he could see better in the dark like this – and it felt good not to fight it for once.

There was no danger; not for Viago. Anton had realized a while ago that the wolf in him had stopped seeing the vampires as a threat. The full moon was still risky; too unpredictable for him to ever consider it safe, but he didn’t worry about active hostility anymore. Nowadays, there was only the confusing, but pressing, urge to include them in his alpha-driven imperative to protect. Specifically Viago, but it encompassed the rest of them too (which was not as confusing as Anton liked to pretend) and the rest of the pack would be loath to go against it even if they wanted to – which none of them did.  

Needless to say, for the first time in a long time, Anton wasn’t worried about hurting someone.

He was having fun.

Anton lay on the ground, some hours later, his body exhausted and aching in that bone deep, satisfyingly sore kind of way. The kind of pain that you could feel good about.

“Haven’t had a run that good in ages. I wonder if you’re faster than me when you’re in your normal form,” Anton mused, absentmindedly stroking Viago’s wings where they lay stretched out over his chest. He felt sated and lazy, almost high in the aftermath of it all.

“Bet you’re easier to find. You blend in too well like this, even when the wolf vision takes over. And I can smell you from miles away normally.”

Viago squawked indignantly, his fur bristling. 

“Not like that, silly bat,” Anton stroked a finger down his nose, giving it a little boop before returning to scratch behind his ears. “It’s not bad, it’s just… distinct, you know? Vampires in general all have a kind of underlying scent of earthy decay with a hint of iron, but everyone has their own unique markers. Pheromones maybe? I dunno. Just know you smell sweet, like night blooming flowers and just this side of over-ripened citrus. Sometimes lavender depending on which cleaners you’ve had your laundry done at. S’nice.” 

Viago mimed sniffing himself and pointed to Anton. 

The werewolf laughed. 

“What do you smell like now? It’s similar, just muted. Minus the detergent obviously. It’s also… woodsier? I don’t mean you smell like dirt before you get offended, just, like a bat, I guess. And - you’ll definitely be offended by this, but it really can’t be helped if you continue to insist on sleeping on that stuffed wolf - like pack.”

Viago’s eyes went wide, and Anton hastened to add, “it’s not super strong or anything, it’s just there, if you know what to look for. I’m sure it’ll fade once you turn back.” He tried to hide the way his mouth automatically twisted into a frown at the thought and wondered - for the thousandth time - if vampires could smell emotions the way wolves could. He hoped not. He didn’t want to have to explain why the idea of Viago no longer smelling like him (because it was Anton specifically that he smelled like, not pack in general) made his chest feel tight and his skin prickle. 

He looked away from Viago and back up at the sky, the stars shining down on them, sky dark and clear without the moon’s glow or the city lights. 

He felt Viago move, tiny pinpricks of his claws as he crawled up Anton’s chest to snuggled in the space between his shoulder and neck, a space he never let anyone but pack touch. The wolf under his skin rumbled contentedly. 

“I know this whole situation isn’t easy for you. Thanks for letting me help,” he whispered into the darkness.

Viago hugged him again and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, gazing up at the stars until the buzzing of Anton’s phone interrupted them.

N: We’re leaving soon. V still coming?

“You should still go. Probably used up everything from earlier on that game of chase. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

Anton sat up slowly, reluctant to let him go, but knowing it was the responsible thing to do. A stupid, treacherous place in his brain suggested that Viago could just feed off him again, probably keep feeding off him, until he broke the curse and returned to normal.

It was not as appalling a thought as it should’ve been.

But it wasn’t the kind of thing he could suggest, or should, even. Besides, he had to keep reminding himself, it was probably a very different experience for Viago than it was for him. Werewolf blood tasted awful to vampires. It wasn’t a choice he would willingly make if he had alternatives available. Anton was an emergency snack only; like one of those protein bars that says its cookies and cream flavoured but really tastes like cardboard and sand but is the only thing keeping you from perishing on a long hike. He was a last resort.

“Speaking of passing out, I’m absolutely knackered. I’ll leave the upstairs window open for you. Don’t think I’ll be able to stay up until sunrise.”

He pulled on his shoes and reached for his jacket, suddenly feeling the chill more acutely than before. Viago hovered near by, looking unsure.

“Go on, I’ll let them know you’re coming. Or did you – do you want me to walk you? You don’t think the witch is, I don’t know, planning to do something else, do you?” It hadn’t crossed his mind, but now Anton’s brain was starting to concoct all sorts of scenarios where misfortune might befall a bat flying around the city all on his own.

Viago shook his head and gave a little wave with one wing before turning to fly away.

“Vi!”

He turned around, cocking his head to the side.

“Just – be careful, okay?”

Anton thought he could just make out the rolling of his eyes, but Viago nodded anyway before turning once again to leave.

Chapter Text

Viago returned to the werewolf’s house with plenty of time to spare just in case he’d forgotten to leave open either the upstairs window or his bedroom door.

He needn’t have worried; Anton had done exactly as he’d promised and even gone a step further, confining himself to one side of the bed, leaving enough room for a bat four times the size of Viago!

Anton had warned he was a fitful sleeper, but Viago hadn’t noticed it until now. He was making little huffy whimpering noises that Viago felt an uncontrollable urge to sooth by running his fingers gently through his friend’s fluffy hair and whispering softly that everything was all right.

It was unfortunate that he was still a bat and therefore could not do any of those things.

Anton’s limbs twitched in a way that very much reminded the vampire of a dog dreaming about chasing something (but that was probably an insensitive comparison and he vowed to himself to never bring it up in conversation). He rolled onto his side, restless hand searching for something that wasn’t there, and whimpered again.

Viago had heard somewhere that you weren’t supposed to wake a person who was having a nightmare – or was that sleepwalking? He couldn’t remember for sure, but he didn’t want to risk it and make things worse for his friend.

But maybe… yes. That might work.

He flew to the opposite side of the bed and dragged the stuffed wolf over within reach of Anton, hoping it would sate his futile searching.

Anton’s sigh of relief was near instantaneous. As soon as the wolf was within his grasp, he was pulling it to his chest, burying his nose in the soft tufts of fur on its head, and letting out little contented rumbles that Viago tried very hard (and failed) not to find adorable.

Viago smiled to himself, satisfied that his solution seemed to have brought Anton some peace.

He made a comfy spot for himself on one of the empty pillows since his usual place was currently being used for a higher purpose. He had barely settled before he caught himself drifting off into slumber, the night having worn him out entirely. The last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was Anton’s hand sliding across the pillowcase, stopping just before it reached Viago, a hair’s breadth from touching, and his own wing spreading out, unbidden, to close the distance.   

Viago woke up alone, as had been the norm so far during his stay with Anton (and, if he was being honest, for a very long time before that too).

He listened for the quiet sounds of life that helped pinpoint Anton’s location, but there weren’t any.

That is odd.

He made to get up and go searching for clues, but barely had to move before he noticed a little piece of paper pinned to the stuffed wolf with his name scribbled in large letters at the top of it.

Viago,

Hope you slept well.

I forgot to mention that Declan is moving today, and I volunteered to help him shift all things to the new place. Probably won’t be back til late. The window upstairs is open, so come and go as you please. Have the others call me if you need anything. 

- Anton

Oh. Well, that explained it then.

He ignored the strange feeling of disappointment stirring in his chest and instead made his way back home.

Viago had never realized how much time he spent on his own on a daily basis. He would fill his evenings doing chores and hobbies, making pottery or writing in his diaries for instance. All things that required hands to do. He couldn’t even put on a record! He tried reading, but the text hurt his eyes after a while, and it was difficult to turn the pages without accidentally tearing them with his claws.

The others didn’t ignore him, per se. No more than they did on any other night.

It was just… harder to be alone with himself like this than when he had distractions. Time moved like molasses, and he found himself wandering around the house, looking for something to keep himself busy. As there was nothing new from his last three laps around, he settled for watching Nick play some excessively violent and bloody video game.

The hours came and went and Viago started to get a little worried no one had heard from Anton.

Not that he needed to check in or anything. His note said nothing about letting Viago know when he was free, and he was probably too tired to hang out anyway. Just because he’d taken Viago on as a houseguest didn’t mean he was responsible for entertaining him 24/7. He had his own life and his own friends, just like Viago had his. He wasn’t required to share them with Viago just because some silly witch had taken it upon herself to meddle in things that were none of her concern.

Viago sighed and tried again to focus on the game going on in front of him, lest he get stuck wallowing in his own despair again. That’s what got him into this mess in the first place.

There didn’t seem to be any plot to follow and he couldn’t figure out if Nick was supposed to be a good guy or a bad guy. He was killing a lot of people, but the game kept telling him “good job” and “nice kill” so it was anyone’s guess, really.  Currently, the game was on pause so Nick could pull the ringing cell phone from his pocket and answer.   

“Hey man, how’s it going?” He turned to Viago and mouthed it’s your boyfriend. “Yeah, he’s here.”

Viago blinked and nearly fell off the chair he was perching on, his brain skipping like an old record over the word.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Boyfriend!

Why would Nick say that? Had Viago done something to give that impression? Had he failed so tragically at hiding his crush that Nick felt it was common enough knowledge to tease him about it publicly?? Viago whirled around to check if anyone else had heard but they were alone in the sitting room. His chest ached, dead muscles instinctively contracting in his moment of panic.

Nick was still talking into the phone, but it was difficult to make out the words past the ringing in his own ears.

He made a face at Viago, clearly confused at whatever panicked expression his bat face held.

Viago forced himself to calm down. It was just a joke. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

He tried to smile, to look calm and confident. Cool as a cucumber, as the young people said nowadays.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Nick asked, looking increasingly alarmed at his behaviour. “Wha- oh no, not you Anton, sorry. Viago’s being weird.”

Viago glared and stuck his tongue out at the other vampire. “Uh, I don’t think so unless he ate on the way over. Why?”

Now that the panic had receded, Viago could hear Anton’s voice through the phone, explaining that Viago needed to eat more frequently and asking about blood bags.

“Yeah, I can bring some by now if you want. We can grab a bite on the way.”

Viago perked up at that. Finally! Something to do other than watch Nick playing confusing video games that hurt his eyes and had no discernible point.

Nick hung up and turned off the tv, stretching as he stood, his joints making several popping sounds along the way.

Viago followed him around as he grabbed his shoulder bag and the soft, insulated bag that he hid in it to keep the blood bags cool during travel.

The walk to Anton’s wasn’t long, especially at vampire speed, but they had to account for stopping for food and it was better to be safe than sorry. No one wanted spoiled blood. Gross.

“So, what was that little fit you had earlier?” Nick asked once they were out of the house.

Scheiß. He was hoping the other vampire had forgotten about that.

“You’re cool with this arrangement, right? Anton’s not like secretly torturing you or something?”

Viago stopped flying to turn and vigorously shake his head at him. Nick held his hands up in defence.

“Sorry man, but I had to ask. I mean, he doesn’t seem like the type, but you never know. It’s always the quiet ones.”

Viago very pointed rolled his eyes before turning to fly forward again.

“All right so if your werewolf boyfriend isn’t trying to murder you then why did you - that! You’re doing the face again. What is wrong with you?”

Viago tried desperately to stop doing whatever he was doing with his face, but he was helpless to stop it.

“It’s obviously something to do with Anton.”

His facial muscles did something without his permission.

“Wait, is it the boyfriend thing?”

His face did another thing and his wings stopped working properly for a second.

“Seriously?! I thought you were better than that, Viago,” Nick said, seemingly terribly distressed by Viago’s not-admission. Viago opened his mouth to defend himself because, okay yes, he was hopelessly in love with a werewolf, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it, obviously, and he wasn’t hurting anyone but himself, so why did it matter to Nick? And what did he mean “better than?” The werewolves were no better or worse than the vampires. They all had different strengths and weaknesses, and who was he to say that about Anton? Anton was far better at being a werewolf than Nick was at being a vampire!

He said none of this, of course, because he was still, unfortunately, a bat and unable to communicate that much with just the shake or nod of his head.

He did manage to squeak indignantly though.

“No, you know what? I get that we’re supposed to think we’re soooo much better than them and they’re what? Gross and beneath us because they transform into wolves? Even though Deacon turned into a fucking cat the other day so he could go have freaky cat sex in an alley somewhere. But like, enough is enough, you know? I’m so sick of this bullshit.” Nick had stopped walking to look at Viago and was aggressively running one hand through his hair while the other flailed around as he talked.

“Stu’s been my best friend for I don’t even know how long, and I know you guys think you’re being nice when you couch the insults you throw around with “not Stu,” but it’s not nice. It’s actually really shitty. That’s his pack; his family. They could’ve just killed him, you know? They could’ve let him die. Or just left him on his own because of his association with us. But they didn’t. And what’s more, they’ve gone out of their way to be inclusive, to be friendly, even, and what do they get for it? Fucking dog jokes, man.”

Viago didn’t know how to respond to that. On the one hand, he was relieved Nick hadn’t figured out his crush, but on the other, he kind of would rather have his feelings exposed than for Nick to think he thought that way of the werewolves.

He shook his head, trying to convey that Nick had gotten it wrong.

“Sorry, that’s not all on you. I know you don't say that shit anymore. I actually thought you were over those prejudices, considering how you and Anton are practically joined at the hip every time we have a game night or a group thing. Guess it’s ingrained pretty deep.”

Viago shook his head again, urgently, desperate for Nick not to think so poorly of him.

“No? Then what’s with the face, man? You could do a lot worse than Anton. Sure, he’s not the most attractive guy and he’s bossy as hell – oww!” Nick looked down at his hand, then back up at Viago, who had just bitten him. Viago looked back, also stunned at his actions. He really needed to get a handle on this body. It kept doing things without his permission.

“The fuck was that for? What, you don’t think he’s bossy?” Nick said with a laugh, his anger starting to ebb now that he’d put it out there.

Viago shrugged. Okay yes, Anton could be bossy on occasion, but it was essentially part of the job description. He had to keep an entire pack of werewolves in line. You couldn’t do that and be a push over. They needed looking after.

“Oh, so you think he’s attractive,” Nick said, sarcastically.  

Viago froze.

Nick froze.

Viago nearly fell out of the sky because he forgot to keep moving his wings.

He stared on in horror as he watched the pieces fall into place in Nick’s brain.

“Oh shit!” Nick nearly doubled over he was laughing so hard. “Fuck, I just went on that whole rant and this whole time you were freaking out because you have the hots for Anton. Fuck that’s amazing. Does he – Wait. Are you guys actually dating? Is that why you freaked, because I accidentally outed your secret, interspecies love affair?”

Viago’s brain kicked back in enough to shake his head. Scheiß this was going to wrong. How had a ten-minute walk gone so, so wrong?

“Does he know?”

Viago shook his head again and grabbed Nick by the collar, putting one claw to his own mouth then dragging it across his throat.

“Easy there, killer. I get it. I won’t say anything.” He held up his hands in surrender and Viago narrowed his eyes at him. He didn’t believe that for a second. “Promise. On Stu’s life.”

Viago let him go. That was as good a promise as ever he’d heard.

The rest of the walk went by more comfortably, with Nick breaking into giggles and muttering “fucking hell,” or “this is amazing,” to himself every few minutes. Viago wanted to be mad about it, but it was better than having him think Viago was a bigoted jerk, and it was kind of nice for someone else to know and not make him feel like it was the end of the world. Nick’s reaction kind of made him feel like it wasn’t such a far-fetched thing after all, a vampire being in love with a werewolf.

He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse about it though. Maybe a vampire and a werewolf could hypothetically be in love somewhere, but this specific vampire and this specific werewolf? There were so many other factors, other complications, to account for.

It couldn’t be that easy.

Anton’s front door opened before Nick even had a chance to knock.

“All right?” Anton asked in way of greeting, nodding his head once at Nick. He was wearing a tattered old college sports tee and soft grey joggers. His ginger hair was slightly damp and smelled of tea tree, a few renegade strands falling across his forehead. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, like his body was too exhausted to hold itself up without aid.

“Yeah, long day?”

“You could say that. You think you’ve got enhanced strength and stamina until you’ve maneuvered a king-sized mattress up and down a combined five flights of stairs and around every corner imaginable.” The two men laughed and Viago tried not to get too caught up on the words “enhanced strength and stamina.” He was lucky he wasn’t expected to be an active part of the conversation.

Nick pulled the cooler bag out and handed it to Anton.

“Those should last a couple more weeks in the fridge, just turn it upside down a few times before you take any out in case of settling.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem. You’re the one doing us a favor.” He cut his eyes over at Viago, who responded in kind by sticking out his tongue. He heard Anton’s quietly huffed laugh at their antics.

“I’m happy to help.” There was a chorus of shouts from behind Anton, causing the alpha to sigh and rub his temple with one hand. “That’ll be the tiebreaker finished. You wanna come in? Cliff and Stu’ll be about to start a new game. It’s Mario Kart.”

“Fuck yeah!” Nick hollered, breezing past Anton to grab a controller and find a spot on the couch. Anton shook his head at the scene, but there was a smile in his eyes and a faint upturn to his lips that told Viago he wasn’t as annoyed as he let on. He turned back to Viago, and the hint of a smile turned into a real one, if only for a moment.

“Hey Vi, good night?”

Viago shrugged. He wasn’t sure he’d describe it that way, but it hadn’t been bad exactly. It was no playing chase-the-werewolf through the woods though, that was for sure.

“Same.” He nodded toward the ruckus being made in the den, pushing off the wall to move out of the way to make space for Viago to enter. “Come on then. Have you eaten?”

Viago nodded. Nick had grabbed an unlucky midnight jogger to dine on right before turning onto Anton’s street and Viago had taken the opportunity to drink his fill too.

He flew forward just far enough to perch on Anton’s shoulder. He’d been flying for ages and his wings were tired, and they were going the same place, so it only made logical sense to do so. The werewolf offered no objections, only a quiet rumble-growl like he had last night in his sleep and took them to the kitchen to put away his emergency blood.

A few hours later Anton was fast asleep in an overstuffed armchair, game controller long forgotten in his lap. Stu had shushed them a few times, but it didn’t seem to matter. He didn’t even twitch when Cliffton whooped loudly after winning his third game in a row.

This game was much more pleasant to watch, not only because it was more visually appealing, but because Anton had spent the first few minutes explaining what was going on and what the point of it all was. Viago could clearly follow what was happening on screen and why each player was happy or sad about it.

After the first hour, Anton had grown quieter, his little go-kart person veering dangerously to the left or right or stopping altogether on the track as his eyes fought to stay open. Eventually, he’d caved and opted to just watch after making sure every had enough snacks and drinks.

Viago wished he could tell the sleepy wolf to go to bed, but he was stubbornly fighting his exhaustion like a toddler who didn’t want to miss out on grown-up time.

Once he’d been solidly out for a while – and more beers had been imbibed – Stu, Cliffton, and Nick took it in turn seeing who could land a piece of popcorn in his slightly open mouth. Viago glared at them all sternly, but it only served to set them off laughing and making their attempts with renewed vigor.

I would make an excellent goalie, he thought as he stretched out his wing to stop yet another popped kernel mid-flight. He was just fantasizing about having some kind of sports-ball game for their next group get-together when he felt something land on his head. He reached for it, but the angle was all wrong. He could quite reach.

Once the laughter died down, Stu finally took pity on him and leaned across the arm of the couch to help, but right as he reached out, Anton’s hand came up in a flash and clasped around his wrist, halting his progress.

The alpha sat up abruptly, turning towards his “assailant.”

“Shit, sorry Anton didn’t mean to startle you. Wasn’t thinking,” Stu said in apology, pulling his wrist back and subtly massaging it as soon as Anton let go.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” He looked at his own hand like it had betrayed him, acting out on its own.

“It’s been a long day, why don’t you go to sleep? In an actual bed,” Stu added, gently but firmly.  

“Yeah, yeah all right,” Anton finally caved. “Sorry I passed out on you guys. This must be what getting old feels like.”

“Getting?” Cliff said, earning a throw pillow to the side of the head.

“You’re only a few years younger than me,” Anton said, glaring at his grinning packmate. He glanced at the clock then groaned. “Keep it down in here, will ya? I’ve got to be up in about three hours.”

“I thought you were off tomorrow,” Cliff said, taking another sip of beer.

“I was, but Kelley’s out with the flu and there was no one else to cover,” he said, pushing himself up and off the chair, knees audibly cracking as he did so.

“Sounds like a them problem to me,” Nick commented.  

“I’ve never had any problems taking time off for the full moon or getting someone to cover for “emergencies” at this job; I’m not gonna say no when someone else needs the same.” It sounded to Viago like a sentence he’d repeated numerous times, or some variation of, and he wondered how often the man sacrificed his own comfort for the comfort of those around him.

Too often, probably, if this whole curse situation was anything to go by.

A fresh wave of guilt washed over Viago and he tried his best to ignore it. Anton had told him already that he wasn’t being a burden, a few times in fact, and he wanted to believe it was true.

“You’re too nice, man.”

“I’m really not,” Anton said, glancing over at Stu, then away. Viago knew what guilt looked like on himself well enough that he could see it plainly in others and he wished there was some way to comfort his friend, to reassure him that he wasn’t the monster he thought he was.

“Yeah, you should see him the night before the full,” Cliff said.

And just as quickly as it had come, the look of remorse was gone, replaced by the one of fond annoyance that he so often wore around his pack.

“I can kick you out, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. All bark and no bite.”

“Why do I put up with this abuse?” He said, turning to speak directly to Viago. Before Viago had a chance to reply, he was reaching out, carefully plucking the stray piece of popcorn from Viago’s fur and looking at it with an adorably confused expression.

“What in the world were you doing while I was asleep?”

Viago pointed to the others who all conspicuously looked elsewhere when Anton turned back to them. He sighed, putting his hands on his hips.  

“No bullying Viago while I’m asleep or I’m hiding the consoles for a week, got it?”

“Yes, Alpha.” Cliff and Stu mumbled at the same time.

“Does that mean we can bully him when you’re awake?” Nick asked, just to be contrary. He could be such a little shit when he wanted to be.

(E.g. all the time).

“No bullying. At all. Whether I’m present or not. Is that clear?” Anton said, a bit more alpha in his voice this time.

“Aye aye, captain,” Nick replied, with a mock salute. Viago didn’t believe for two seconds that Anton’s threat would have any effect on Nick’s behavior, but he appreciated the effort. It was sweet of him to try.

The guys picked their game back up once Anton left, whisper-shouting at each other while Viago busied himself cleaning up the discarded popcorn crumbs from the chair and floor. It was a tedious task but at least it made him feel useful.

This being a bat thing was starting to get old. He didn’t mind so much getting to hang out with the wolves more (if improving relations had actually been the point of this curse he’d already be back to his old self by now). But he wanted to speak! And use his hands! Walking was so-so on the best of days so he didn’t really care about getting his legs back, but he couldn’t do anything. It was so boring being a bat all the time.

He glared at the video game controller in Nick’s hand. They should make them more inclusive. And the little scrolly pads for the laptops so he could manage the computer by himself. 

It wasn’t fair.

A whole month like this just because he had a bad day and couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Not. Fair. At. All.

Luckily for Viago, the trio grew tired of their gaming after one more round where Cliff emerged victorious and switched instead to a TV show about one of the sports-ball games and some American getting sent to coach some team in Britain. He was a bit lost at first, but the wolves took it in turns to explain bits to him that he didn’t get and by midway through the second episode he was enjoying himself enough to forget about his earlier woes. 

After what felt like no time at all, Anton was reemerging from his room, looking sleep deprived and adorably rumpled in his ranger uniform. 

He barely acknowledged them as he walked past to get to the kitchen, responding to his wolves’ chipper greetings with a swipe of his hand across the backs of their necks and a mumbled “morning.”

Viago followed him into the kitchen, a little concerned he might hurt himself if he tried to make anything for breakfast.

Luckily, Anton’s body seemed to know this routine by heart and he moved through the motions of filling the coffee maker almost robotically, letting his eyes drift closed as he leaned against the counter and waited for it to brew.

Viago noticed the open box of breakfast bars sitting on the counter that Clifton had opened last night after complaining about the available snack selection at Anton’s. He pulled one of the bars out, careful not to rip its plastic packaging, and carried it over to Anton, dropping onto the counter next to him. 

He looked so soft in the morning. His hair, his eyes, the half-smile he was giving Viago as he looked at the breakfast bar.

“Thanks Vi.”  Anton’s hand reached out, passed the proffered food to scratch Viago behind the ears. The scratch turned into more of a caress as his movements slowed. His eyes were still closed and Viago thought he might’ve fallen back asleep standing up. He stayed very still so as not to wake him. Unfortunately, the coffee maker wasn’t privy to Viago’s plans and beeped loudly only a moment later. Anton startled to attention, confirming Viago’s suspicions that he’d been sleeping. 

He watched Anton pour a large thermos of coffee, inhaling deeply as if he could absorb the caffeine simply through scent. Viago tried to remember what the stuff tasted like, but it was so long ago. He couldn’t remember the taste of anything that wasn’t blood. 

“You should get to bed, Vi. Sun’s almost up,” Anton said. His voice was quiet and still rough with sleep – or lack thereof.

Viago sighed, wishing he didn’t have to go. It was nice having someone to fall asleep next to, especially in his current vulnerable state. He didn’t have the protective walls of his coffin to keep him safe, yet somehow, he still felt comfortable dozing off with Anton around. He knew with every fiber of his being that the wolf wouldn’t let any harm come to him.

“Hey’s it cool if Nick crashes here?” Stu asked as he walked into the kitchen, breaking the cozy, private moment they’d been sharing.

Anton straightened, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Cutting it close if I said no, aren’t you?” He asked, glancing at his watch. Stu shrugged.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna say yes.”

Anton rolled his eyes but there was no malice in it. It actually appeared terribly fond from where Viago stood. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Show him where the guest rooms are, will ya? And warn him about the upstairs window.”

“Will do,” Stu replied, opening the cabinets seemingly at random in search of something to eat. Anton tossed a banana to him from a bowl on the counter.

“Hang on, doesn’t he need his grave dirt or whatever?”

Nick appeared suddenly and it was a testament to how used to the vampires the wolves were that neither of them startled in the slightest. 

“Nah, don’t need soil from my homeland, because this is my homeland.”

“Ah yeah that’s makes sense. Lucky you.” Anton started grabbing things from the refrigerator and shoving them into a lunch bag. “Well, you’re welcome to stay, it’s all vampire-proof. Obviously. Just stay out of my room. The doors open but it’s off limits.”

“Why’s the door open then?” Nick asked, nosily. Viago glared at him for his rudeness but was blatantly ignored.

“That’s where Viago sleeps,” Stu told him, mouth half full of a banana.

Viago wanted to bang his head against the counter at the look of surprised glee on Nick’s face. He caught his eye and shook his head sternly, moving his claw from one side of his neck to the other like he had earlier in the night in a gesture that was hopefully threatening enough to keep the young vampire from saying something incriminating. Luckily the wolves were too distracted with their breakfasts to notice the exchange.

“Seems like favoritism,” Nick grumbled, and while it was a little on the nose, it was nowhere near as bad it could’ve been. Viago knew him well enough to know that. 

“Cuz it is,” Anton replied without missing a beat. “Now go to bed, everyone, before I open the door and half of you don’t exist anymore.”

“Come on, I’ll show you your room,” Stu said, slinging an arm around Nick’s shoulder and marching him out of the kitchen. “Night, er morning Viago. Bye Anton,” he called over his shoulder.

“Bye guys. Clean up after yourselves when you wake up!” Anton called behind them. He turned to Viago and rolled his eyes. “It’s like having bloody kids.”

Viago sighed and shook his head fondly; he understood the sentiment completely.

“Go on, you too. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tonight,” Anton instructed, slowly making his way to the front door. He waited until Viago was safely across the room, hidden behind the half-closed bedroom door before opening the front door and leaving.

Viago would’ve pouted some more – really, he was quite good at sulking – but the bed was still warm and smelled of Anton and his eyelids were quite heavy, so he snuggled up to his substitute wolf and let the world melt away.

Chapter Text

“Come on Anton,” Nathan M.’s voice rang out from the kitchen all the way through Anton’s bedroom door. Viago had barely just woken up to the sounds of a group of men trapsing through the front door and therefore had missed the first part of the conversation. “Rachel’s bartending tonight.”

Viago’s ears perked up at the mention of a name he didn’t know.

Who is this Rachel?

His curiosity carried him into the living room to get a better listen, but he stayed back far enough not to be seen from the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt just yet.

“Who?” He heard Anton ask.

He was answered with a long-suffering sigh.

“Tall blonde who has a crush on you and as a result sometimes gives you free drinks that you end up giving to one of us? Ring a bell?” Dion explained.

Viago’s stomach did a weird, wobbly thing, but the lack of enthusiasm in Anton’s reply helped ease it once more.

“Oh, her.”

He was met again with a sigh, this time a chorus of them, coupled with a few groans thrown in for good measure.

“It’s useless D, you know he’s not into blondes.” Nathan G. spoke this time.

“Or women,” Nathan M. added.

“Or huma-”

“Enough! Thank you, you’ve made your point,” Anton interrupted, cutting Clifton off before he could finish. Viago’s stomach did the wobbly thing again, only this time for an entirely different reason. He told it to get a hold of itself. Nothing good ever came from jumping to conclusions. Besides, he wasn’t the only non-blonde, non-human, non-woman person around for Anton to be interested in. Clifton very likely meant another werewolf – if he even had someone specific in mind at all.

Definitely not Viago.

“Regardless of my preferences, I’m not going to take advantage of someone’s feelings just so you lot can score free drinks. In fact, you’re all tipping extra tonight on principle.”

The pack let out a collective groan following that order, but Viago thought it was more than fair.

“You can’t enforce that rule if you don’t come with us,” Dion said, trying his luck.

“Wanna bet?” Anton replied. Viago couldn’t see him from where he was loitering outside the entryway, but he knew that response had been accompanied by a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

“Ugh fine,” Dion said, wind going right out of his sails. “Be boring.” He grumbled that last bit under his breath, but if Viago could hear him, his alpha most definitely could as well.

“What are we bullying Anton about?” Nick asked on his way down the stairs. Apparently, he could hear them too.

Viago had a brief moment of panic wondering how long Nick might’ve been awake and if he had seen Viago eavesdropping, but the other vampire gave no indication that he thought Viago was being weird or creepy, and simply nodded his head in greeting as he walked past Viago into the kitchen.

Viago took the opportunity to show himself to the wolves as well now that he’d been spotted.

“We’re going to Boogie Wonderland. You in?” Dion explained, turning his attention away from giving Anton grief for the moment.

“Fuck yeah. I’ll tell the guys to meet us there,” Nick replied, reaching in his pocket for his phone.

“I already called them,” Stu said, before he could grab it. Nick raised an eyebrow at this, but for the afterlife of him Viago couldn’t figure out why. Stu was always organizing things between the werewolves and vampires. If Anton was too busy or unavailable with work, Stu would be the one to text Nick all the details or call to discuss the plans with Viago.

He was a very reliable person.

“Oh, did you now?”

Stu shrugged, ignoring Nick’s stare in favour of sorting through the fruit bowl for a snack.

“It was more efficient.”

“Mmhmm.”

Viago really wasn’t sure why it mattered who called, just so long as the rest of the vampires were invited by someone. There would be hell to pay if they found out Nick had gone out to Boogie Wonderland without them. Especially if it was An Outing.

He was a little bummed he couldn’t go too.

“You’re not coming?” Nick asked, dropping whatever mini battle was going on between him and Stu and turning his attention to Anton.

Anton’s eyes flicked to Viago for the briefest of moments before responding.

“I’m running on three hours of sleep, mate. Trust me, I won’t be good company. All the lights and loud noises and… people. I’ll pass this time.”

Now that Viago could see him, he did look rather tired. His hair looked as though he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times, and his mouth was making that little frown it did naturally when he was too tired to stop it.

“Suit yourself,” Nick said with a shrug. Anton sighed in obvious relief that he wasn’t going to have to fight another person about his choice to stay home.

“Definitely not beating those old man allegations with an attitude like that,” Clifton said with a playful smack to his alpha’s shoulder.

Anton rolled his eyes.

“At least take a shot with us.” Nathan M. held up a bottle of rum he’d pulled from one of Anton’s cabinets and a handful of tiny glasses with seemingly varied and unrelated designs on them.

“If any of you get bloody arrested for being drunk and disorderly, so help me…” Dion placed a shot glass (one that read “Team Jacob” on the front in scrawling blue letters) in the hand that Anton was using to point at them all.

“Have a little faith, will ya? We know how to pregame without getting smashed.”

Anton raised a sceptical brow, one Viago would’ve matched if his face had been capable. He wasn’t entirely sure what “pre-gaming” was, but if it had anything to do with drinking large amounts of alcohol before going out to the club, he had experienced firsthand that the wolves in question were not always the best at holding their liquor.

“Do you? Because I seem to recall not two months ago -”

“Shots!” Nathan G. interrupted, holding up his shot glass (which had a picture of that dog from the cartoon show about teenagers who solve supernatural mysteries in a cool van) to his packmates to toast.

“To Anton!” Dion led, followed up by Clifton’s addition, “best alpha in all of New Zealand - even if he is actually a grumpy old man at heart.”

“Cheers!”

Eventually, once the rowdy bunch was even rowdier, Anton was able to corral them out the door after making them promise about twelve more times to behave themselves and not do anything that would cause him to get a phone call in the middle of the night.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?” Nathan M. tried one more time, stumbling a little on his way out the door.

“Positive. Now go on; get out of here before I pass out.”

He locked the door behind them, turning to Viago with a soft, exasperated smile.

“Sorry about all that. What should we do now? Thought maybe we’d get through some more of Dracula if you’re up for it.”

Viago was surprised by the question. He’d expected Anton to go right to sleep after how tired he’d acted around the wolves. He tilted his head, indicative of a question, and looked towards the bedroom meaningfully, then back at Anton.

The man in question scratched the back of his neck, ducking his head.

“Yeah, all right. I might’ve been exaggerating a bit but they’re a difficult bunch to say no to,” He explained. Viago could sympathize, if not empathize. While his own friends were difficult to say no to, they didn’t make it a habit of begging Viago to join them on their outings. Vampires were more solitary creatures than werewolves and fiercely independent, despite, Viago suspected, craving companionship all the same. It was a delicate balance, one that he’d found a flatting situation remedied quite well.

Mostly.

There were some forms of companionship that he still craved like blood – some days more than – which could not be sated by his friends (despite their generous offers).

“We can do something else if you want,” Anton said into the silence. He must’ve taken too long to respond and now Anton was backtracking. “Not a run. I might actually pass out if I try to do that. but something else – a movie, or a game… anything that requires about as much effort as it takes to sit on a couch. That I can do.”

Silly wolf. Of course Viago wanted to keep reading Dracula.

He flew over to the desk where they’d left the book last time and picked it up gingerly in his feet, careful not to scratch or crinkle the cover with his claws. He was still very strong in his bat form; he just didn’t have the anatomy to lift much else due to being so tiny.

He brought the book to Anton, who took it with a smile and laid it on the arm of the sofa where they’d sat before.

“Brilliant. Just gimmie a sec to make a sandwich before we get started.”

Viago found himself a comfortable spot to watch while Anton constructed his sandwich. He liked observing what people liked to eat nowadays. Most of it didn’t evoke any kind of sense memory in him, due to the rise of processed foods, but simple things like sandwiches – meats and cheeses and breads – rang a bell somewhere if he dug hard enough.

It was also just fascinating to see the vast selection available in this century! There were so many options to choose from, he wondered how anyone ever made it out of the grocers without buying every single thing they laid eyes on.

Anton must’ve taken his staring as judgment and felt the need to explain himself.

“I swear I don’t always eat like a frat boy. I do cook. It’s just been a busy week, yeah?”

Viago wasn’t judging, but he motioned for Anton to elaborate anyway, hoping he’d figure it out.

He did.

Of course.

“Usually, I’ll make something big that keeps, like a curry or chili, then the lads have plenty of leftovers to choose from. Growing up my sister and I always had friends over, so mum was always cooking for an army. Helped me out in the long run cuz that’s the only way I know how to portion now. Those first few years out of uni on my own I was always making way too much food, wasting it most of the time. Now I’ve always got someone to pawn it off it.”

He took a bite of his sandwich before continuing.

“You should see this place during the holidays. Everyone’s got some kind of office party or family event they need a dish for so there almost always something on the stove or in the oven.” He motioned towards the stove with a soft, far-off look in his eyes like he was seeing the memories play out before him. He smiled to himself.

“Did you ever cook? Before, y’know.” Viago shook his head. His family had been very well off and they’d had servants for that sort of work. His father would never have permitted him to learn regardless.

“You should try it sometime. I know you don’t need to, obviously, but it could be a fun hobby. Like your pottery. I think it’s relaxing. I could teach you how to make bread – playing around with dough is sort of similar to working clay.”

Viago would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, but it was always fleeting. Who would he cook for? His victims? It seemed like an awful lot of work just to eat someone when canned basketti did the trick just fine.

He’d thought about cooking for Kathrine once upon a time, but their time together had been so short and then they’d been separated and by the time he had made it back to her it was too late.

“Sorry,” Anton said as if he’d just had a realization. “Is this – is it rude to be talking about food to you when you can’t eat it? I can stop –” Viago shook his head vehemently, making a motion with his wing for Anton to keep going. He liked this subject, and he liked learning about the things Anton liked. And more than that, the fact that Anton was choosing to share it with him would’ve been enough to keep him listening indefinitely regardless of topic.

Anton’s posture relaxed instantly.

“Okay, good. Yeah, you should try it. I don’t know, it’s just… nice, y’know? Being able to provide the people you care about with something they need? Even if it’s not always perfect, they usually still get something out of it. And trust me, it’s a damn near impossibility to make something this lot won’t eat. I’ve seen them take burnt cookies out of the trash because, and I quote, “a cookie’s a cookie.” Mental.”

He shook his head at the memory, laughing to himself. “I don’t know, it might just be a wolf thing, no worries if the whole thing sounds bonkers to you.”

Viago shook his head, pulling at Anton’s hand until it lay palm up so he could slowly and carefully trace the letters: W A N T.

Anton’s responding smile was bright as the sun, and just as dangerous. It made Viago fall a little more in love with him every time he saw it.

“Great! It’s a da – plan,” he said, excitedly stumbling over his words, pale cheeks flushing pink under his scruffy, days-old stubble even as he ploughed on. “Soon as you’re back to normal. There’s a breakfast focaccia the guys have been begging me to try.”

They picked up where they’d left off in Dracula. Anton’s voice was entrancing, as usual. Soft with a touch of gravel from lack of sleep. It enveloped Viago like a cosy blanket, warm and heavy and comfortable.

He let himself get lost in the story, detouring only when Anton turned the page and new margin notes were revealed. He was quick to “casually” cover them with a well-placed thumb, but Viago had always been a fast reader and he’d caught most of them so far.

Especially the ones with his name in them.

Some notes were written in a way that couldn’t be covered up without obscuring the actual lines on the page, such as when Anton had underlined the passage “what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for silence?” and written “relatable” in the space between the lines. He read those pages faster than the others, turning them as soon as physically possible, as if there was a chance that Viago had missed it.

He made a mental note to tell Anton in detail about his travels from Europe to New Zealand once he was able to speak again, since there were plenty of remarks and underlines on the pages discussing shipping dirt and coffins to the Count’s newly acquired property.

Eventually, Viago started to get peckish. He hadn’t been keeping an eye on the time, too captivated by Anton’s reading, but it had to be a couple hours since the guys had left to go to Boogie Wonderland at least.

Anton’s free arm was slung over the back of the couch, his wrist just a few inches away. Viago caught himself staring at it and turned his attention back to the pages.

A few minutes later he found himself scooting closer, taking deep, purposeful breaths, filling his lungs with the scent of wilderness and rust.

“I can warm up a blood bag if you’re hungry.” Anton’s voice – no longer the lilting, smoothness of a narrator, instead direct and pointed at Viago – cut through his haziness and he realized, belatedly, that his stubby nose was pressed right up against one the veins on Anton’s wrist, nuzzling the soft, thin skin there.  

Viago froze, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water being dumped over his head.

He hadn’t meant to do that.

And, more than that, he didn’t want a stupid, smelly, stale blood bag; he wanted Anton.

But that had been a one-time thing, a temporary solution, Anton had said so himself. Viago shouldn’t be feeding off his friends, it wasn’t done. It wasn’t right.

He stared down at his feet, suddenly no longer hungry, feeling as tiny and grotesque and monstrous as they looked. He didn’t dare to look Anton in the face for what he might see there.

He shouldn’t have let his baser instincts get the better of him.

He was better than that.

He could be better than that. 

He flew away. Too ashamed to be around Anton at the moment, but unable to truly leave, he made for his favourite spot instead, curling up in a tight ball between the stuffed wolf and a pillow. He wished that he could disappear instead; turn into mist and float away for a little while until Anton forgot about his momentary indiscretion and they never had to talk about it again.

Maybe if he stayed in here long enough his skin would stop prickling and his chest wouldn’t feel so tight.

Maybe he could figure out a way to ask Vlad to hypnotize Anton without actually telling him what happened.

Maybe –

He felt the bed dip to his right and the steady thrum of Anton’s heartbeat filled his ears; a sound he’d grown accustomed to in such a short amount of time. 

“Hey,” he spoke softly, like he had when he’d thought Viago was a real bat, not wanting to startle him. “What just happened?” He started to move the stuffed animal away, but Viago clung to it reflexively and he immediately stopped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m not – look, I don’t mind if you feed from me again.”

Viago peaked out from between the pillow and toy, narrowing his eyes at Anton.

“I really don’t,” he emphasized. He laid down on his side the bed so that his was closer to eye level before continuing. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want to if you had the choice. The way you lot make it sound, werewolf blood is the last thing on earth you’d want to be drinking. I don’t want you to feel like that’s your only choice. That’s why I asked Nick for the blood bags, but if you don’t want those I could, I don’t know, help you hunt? I’m still not comfortable killing anyone, but you don’t need that much. We could figure something out…” he shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, looking at a loss for more suggestions.

Viago scooted a little further out of his hiding spot, mulling it over.

Hunting with Anton sounded lovely, but also like something he wasn’t fully ready for. And something Viago desperately wanted to experience as a full-sized vampire, despite the fact that the offer would likely never be on the table once he was back to normal.

He crawled a little closer and reached for Anton’s wrist. 

“You’re sure?” Anton asked, looking confused as to why Viago would make that choice over all the others. He nodded, happy for once at his inability to explain. “It’s not disgusting to you?”

Viago shook his head then very deliberately traced W A N T against Anton’s palm, the way he had in the kitchen earlier. 

He heard a sharp inhale and looked up, afraid he’d done the wrong thing again, but Anton didn’t look scared or disgusted. His hazel eyes were wide and a bit on the yellow side (an indication that the wolf was close to the surface, Viago had figured out) and his mouth was slightly open in shock? Surprise? Not horror, as Viago had feared, so he considered it an okay sign.

It wasn’t a no. 

He waited patiently, staring up at Anton as a million and one emotions wrote themselves on his face and just as quickly disappeared before settling on a soft, lopsided smile. 

He nodded once.

“Tuck in then.”

One nice thing about feeding as a bat was that he could more easily sense where each vein was due to the infrared pits around his nose. He had better aim like this, which he was grateful for. It would be awkward if he nicked an artery and got blood all over the place. Anton would probably heal up fine, being a werewolf and all, but Viago didn’t want to take any chances. 

It was weird being watched while he ate. It made him self-conscious. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he looked like - was he being too piggish, too eager? Was Anton disgusted by the sight of his own blood being lapped up by a vampire? Was he making too big a mess? Taking too long? Did it hurt?

Last time he’d felt too ill to give any of that much thought, but now it felt as if his brain was running on overdrive, hyperaware of every single thing. He was starting to spiral when suddenly all of his awareness was pulled to a singular focus: the gentle pressure of Anton’s fingers stroking the fur along his spine.  

“This okay?” He asked. His voice sounded different than it had all night. It had a rougher, quieter quality to it, cutting like a jagged knife through the thick silence that had settled around them. 

Viago relaxed into the touch instantly, all the tension and insecurity melting away.

He nodded in response. More than, he wanted to say. Words like perfect and wonderful filled his mind, but there was no way to say them like this, so he did his best to communicate it with his body, pressing against the palm that rested on his back, nuzzling and making a happy trill at the fingers scratching his head lest they get the wrong idea and stop. 

He took his time feeding, happy to draw it out for as long as Anton would let him; as long as he continued petting him, holding him.

He wondered idly if there was some kind of magical additive of werewolf blood that made it taste so good and that was why he’d always been told vampires weren’t supposed to drink it. Like if they knew it was so delicious they would be hunting werewolves all the time and that could lead to a bad time being had for all since most vampires didn’t have a werewolf friend willing to freely share like Viago did.

Maybe they didn’t all taste like this though, maybe it was just Anton’s blood specifically. Rich and full bodied, not honeysweet like a virgin, but delicious all the same; satiating in a way that only the highest quality meals are.

He would have to make sure no other vampires ever fed from him – for his own safety, of course.

Once he finished, he watched Anton’s body knit itself back together. It was a fascinating thing to see. He almost wanted to bite again just to watch it heal back up – an urge he valiantly resisted.

He looked up to find that his companion’s eyes were closed. Listening closely, he realized Anton’s breaths had taken on the slow, deep quality of slumber and his hand had stilled on Viago’s back some minutes ago.

Viago panicked, thinking he had taken too much blood and the werewolf healing hadn’t been able to keep up.

He flew up to his shoulder, trying to shake Anton awake while continuing to panic about how he was going to explain what happened before the pack tore him apart.

“Hmnmph, wha-what? Oh, hey Vi. What’re you doing?” Anton mumbled, slowly pushing himself into a seated position against the headboard.

Viago let himself tumble to the bed, relieved and annoyed in equal measure.

He was just sleeping!

Anton yawned, then checked his wrist to make sure it’d healed properly.

“Sorry, must’ve dozed off there for a sec.” He reached into one of the drawers in his bedside table and pulled out a bag of skittles, popping a few into his mouth. He looked at the clock before adding, “I’ve probably got about an hour left in me; d’you want to keep reading?” He held up the book he’d apparently brought with him from the other room, giving Viago a hopeful little smile.

That was that, apparently. Just like before, there was no indication that Anton was hurt or frightened or disgusted. No change at all really, except for his eyes still shining far more yellow than they should in his human state. He really didn’t mind. He hadn’t been lying.

Viago smiled back and nodded, waiting for Anton to get comfortable before finding a spot next to his head on the pillows to settle in.

Chapter Text

As much as he hated to admit it, Viago was getting used to being a bat. He still missed his body and wanted the curse broken, but he wasn’t dreading the rest of the month if it continued on like this. 

He hadn’t woken on his own in days - always to the sound of the front door shutting or an impromptu wrestling match or a “whispered” curse after a loud crash - but he didn’t mind. Secretly, he kind of loved it. He’d never been good at being alone and the sounds of life surrounding him at all hours of the day and night were comforting (even if they were loud). 

He enjoyed hanging out with the pack. They were all solidly convinced that the curse had something to do with vampire-werewolf relations and had made it their mission to include Viago in as many activities as possible. That was how he’d ended up spending the previous evening watching all of the Twilight movies (apparently it was essential werewolf viewing? Fascinating rules they had). Anton had left them halfway through the last movie, though really probably should’ve left earlier than that. Viago was no expert on werewolf sleep requirements, but he was pretty sure three hours weren’t enough on a nightly basis. 

Still, he selfishly wanted all of Anton’s time so hadn’t pushed that hard to get him to sleep earlier. 

He promised himself he’d do better in the future. As cute as sleepy Anton was, the man needed rest, especially as the full moon approached, and Viago really wanted to go for a run again, which they couldn’t do if Anton was too exhausted from working all day with no sleep. 

Maybe they could go on the weekend. 

Anton was supposed to have three whole days off in a row coming up and Viago was excited to see what the pack had planned. 

Hopefully something he could take part in and not something boring and human-shaped like another trip to Boogie Wonderland. 

He stood and stretched each wing delicately before flying out of the bedroom, curious who he would find on Anton’s couch today. (The man hadn’t been lying, there was almost never a time at least one of them wasn’t over. Viago would’ve been suspicious it was to keep an eye on him if it hadn’t been for the fact that the routine was so obviously ingrained in them. He’d never caught a suspicious glance or woken up with one of them standing over him. In fact, they never bothered him at all when he was in the bedroom, and they only glanced at him to include him in their conversations and make sure he was paying attention. 

He had assumed Anton’s hospitality would be echoed by his pack just for the sheer fact of the hierarchy, but for the most part, they all acted as if they were completely fine with a vampire being in their communal space, like they didn’t just not mind him being there but actually wanted him there. 

It almost made the curse worth it. 

Today the roster included Stu (sitting on the couch, minding his own business), Dion (playing some handheld device with an intensity Viago usually only saw when creatures were hunting), Clifton, and Declan (who were engaged in an equally intense arm wrestling match that was bound to end with the plate next to them getting destroyed). 

Viago swooped down to grab the plate just in time. Another second and it would’ve been smashed by Declan’s fist being slammed into it. 

“Nice save!” Clifton congratulated, taking the plate from Viago’s grasp and setting it in a place no less risky in Viago’s opinion. 

He flew to check the kitchen out of habit, knowing before he crossed the threshold that Anton wasn’t there. His senses told him the only living beings in the house were the ones he could see. 

He tried not to pout. 

Anton was late. 

“He’s not back yet,” Stu told him, as if that wasn’t obvious. “He texted earlier. Said to let you know he has to cover until nine for some astronomy school night thing.”

Viago looked at the clock and frowned. That was hours away!

What was he going to do in the meantime? 

He looked around, noticing the dishes from last night still scattered around various surfaces and piles of crumbs on the floor and - was that? Yes, definitely - someone’s dirty socks sticking out the back of the couch. 

As lovely as he found all of Anton’s packmates, the mess they left in their wake left something to be desired. As did their lack of motivation to clean it. 

As much as Anton acted like their parent, they weren’t actually children. They were grown men who were fully capable of picking up after themselves. They should be more respectful, especially of a house that wasn’t even theirs! Even Deacon cleaned up after himself when he was in someone else’s home! 

No. This wouldn’t do. 

He started by snatching the device out of Dion’s grip and placing it (carefully) on top of a bookcase. While he was yelling “what the fuck mate?!” Viago pressed half a dozen buttons on the tv remote, shutting the screen off completely. 

“Dude! What’s gotten into you?” Declan called after him as he pulled Clifton by the tee shirt into the kitchen. He stopped in front of the stove, then yanked Dion (the whole group had followed to see what was going on) over to the overflowing trash can. Next, he pointed to Declan, then to the full sink, then back to the wolf. 

Their matching looks of annoyance and confusion morphed into understanding and Stu started to chuckle. 

“Guess he’s sick of the mess.”

“There are nicer ways to ask,” Dion grumbled, glaring at Viago. Viago huffed.

“I mean, he can’t really talk so…” Stu said, coming to his defense. 

“Do I have to do the dishes? I hate touching wet food. Cliff, can we trade?” Declan whined, taking a step away from the sink, eyeing it wearily. Cliff shrugged.  

“Yeah, sure. I’m not really sure what he meant for me to do. The stove is spotless.”

Viago smacked his hand against his forehead. 

He flew to the fridge, making a sweeping motion that would hopefully indicate “food” to the wolves, then pointed to the stove, then to Clifton, then back to the stove.

He could see the lightbulb going off.  

“Oooooh okay, yeah we’re definitely switching unless you want me to burn the place down.”

The front door opened, and Nathan M. called a hello before appearing in the doorway. 

“What’s up? We having a meeting?”

“Run now before it’s too late,” Clifton warned. Viago stuck his tongue out at him.

“Viago wants the house cleaned before Anton gets home. We’re dividing up the chores,” Stu explained. 

Thank Satan for Stu. 

Nathan’s face melted into a beaming smile.

“Aww that’s so domestic.” Stu elbowed him in the side (Viago wasn’t sure why), but he recovered quickly. “Anyone called laundry?”

“All yours,” Dion offered, grabbing cleaning supplies from under the sink. 

“Well unless Anton’s in the mood for cheese sandwiches for dinner, I’m gonna have to go to the store,” Declan lamented, closing the refrigerator door, and moving on to investigate the equally barren cabinets.

“Can’t have sandwiches, I finished off the bread this afternoon,” Clifton chimed in, already elbow-deep in the tower of dishes.

“Right. I’ll be back in a few.” 

The boys did some complicated money sharing that somehow didn’t involve the exchange of bills at all, just some typing on their phones, all the while calling out requests for snacks, then got down to their chores. 

In no time at all the place was back to looking brand new. (Viago really needed to figure out how to get one of those dish washing machines installed in the flat. It made things soooooo much easier!). As he flew around to inspect the others’ work and lend a hand (wing) in dusting the high up places, his mind wandered to other ways he could help out. Anton deserved a night off and to have rest and relaxation.

Viago was ninety percent certain this necessitated a bubble bath. Based on all the media he’d been consuming recently that was definitely a requirement for relaxing.

He looked in Anton’s adjoining bathroom for something one would use for bubbles and was met with a whole cabinet of options! 

But how to choose? 

Some of the names were straight forward, like peppermint or orange zest, but what did an “autumn day” smell like? Leaves? Dirt? Did werewolves like the smell of dirt? The woods? Viago remembered Anton saying that he smelled woodsy like this, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Maybe he would hate being reminded of Viago while he was trying to relax.

What about “palm trees & pina coladas?” 

He tried his best to open the bottles to no avail. The slippery plastic wasn’t shaped right for bat hands or feet. 

Drat! 

He went in search of Stu and found him putting away the vacuum.

Perfect timing. 

“Hey mate, what’s up?”

He motioned for Stu to follow and flew towards Anton’s room. Stu stopped at the door. 

“Yeeeaah, Anton doesn’t like anyone to go in there. Can I help from out here?”

Ugh! This would take forever if he had to carry every bottle out to Stu for him to open. 

He shook his head and tried his best, sweetest pleading face, widening his eyes as much as possible. (It always worked on Anton).  

Stu sighed heavily. 

“Fine. But I’m one hundred percent blaming you if he gets mad.”

Viago nodded in agreement. 

He wouldn’t get mad though. Not once he was in his lovely bath with the best smelling bubbles. 

Viago made Stu open each and every bottle before deciding on the eucalyptus and lavender. According to Stu, it was supposed to be relaxing - something called aromatherapy. He would have to look into that. He’d always been interested in the language of flowers. This seemed similar. 

Once that was sorted, Stu went back to his tasks and Viago went to the laundry room. There he found Nathan M. folding freshly dried clothes and sorting them onto shelves with everyone’s names on it.

How neat! 

Viago looked over the pile designated for Anton (somehow smaller than everyone else’s despite actually being the only person who lived there) and found what he was looking for: the soft green tee shirt he wore most nights to sleep in and the grey and black flannel night pants he’d worn a few nights ago. Viago had perched on his knee to point out something in their book and instantly fallen in love with the fabric. 

This century might not hold a candle to his own in terms of fashion, but the innovations in fabrics and textures certainly made up for it. 

Viago usually just slept in his normal night to night clothes when he wasn’t a bat, but he knew humans preferred separate, sleep-only clothes - usually loose and soft things unless they were trying to be seductive, like Bella when she was trying to make a vampire-hybrid baby. 

He shook his head to clear it of all thoughts of what Anton might wear to bed if he were trying to be seductive, and instead focused on the task at hand: removing said items of clothing from the pile without knocking the whole thing over. 

He gave it a valiant effort, really, he did, but luckily, Nathan noticed him before he could make too much of a mess and carefully pulled out the pieces Viago asked for without any further incident. 

Viago gave him a thumbs up (or claw up, he should say) and carried the pieces back to Anton’s bedroom to lay out on the bed for him. 

Once all that was sorted, he went to the kitchen to check on the progress of dinner, it was getting close to the time Anton should be home. 

“You can’t use that, bro, you’ll kill our vampire,” Dion was telling Declan urgently, grabbing a jar of something out of his hand. If Viago had the ability, he would’ve blushed at being called “their” vampire. As it was, it made his cold, dead body feel warm all over to hear them refer to him as such. As if he were a part of their weird little family too. 

“He’s not eating it,” Declan argued, reaching for the bottle. Dion slapped his hand away.

“Yeah, but what if it’s like aerosolized or something when you cook it? Look, we can just ask.” Dion turned around to, presumably, go find Viago, and nearly walked directly into him. “Fuuu-dge!” He held a hand to his pounding heart before gathering his bearings. “Viago, you scared the hell out of me man. But since you’re here: Declan’s trying to make garlic bread with the lasagna but you lot are like allergic to garlic or whatever, right? If it’s like in the air or on our breath is that gonna be a problem?”

Truly, Viago didn’t know the answer to this. He didn’t think it would be a problem unless he was flying directly over the stove while they were sautéing it, but he didn’t know for sure. Also, it definitely lingered in the bloodstream and left a weird aftertaste - like when cows eat a lot of onion grass and you can taste it in the milk. 

He’d prefer that wasn’t the case for Anton, but he didn’t want to lie, so he shrugged. 

“Best not to use it, just to be safe, yeah?” 

Viago nodded enthusiastically in agreement. That was the most cautious course of action, and it meant Anton wouldn’t have icky garlic blood. 

“Fine. Put that back and grab the cheese then, will ya?” Declan relented. “We can just use Parmesan instead.”

Viago discovered that there was a metal bar on the light fixture that fit his feet perfectly and that hanging from there offered him the perfect view of everything going on without being in the way. 

He watched Declan finish up with the lasagna and cheese bread, fascinated with how the man multitasked without burning anything, while Dion filled a bowl with leafy greens and chopped veggies. Stu came and went with cleaning supplies until finally he put everything away and started on the dishes Declan had used for cooking. Finally, Clifton and Nathan returned to set the table. 

At almost half past nine everyone’s heads turned slightly towards the direction of the driveway. It was a little eerie and a lot adorable, like a pack of puppies responding to their owner returning home. 

(Actually, pretty much just like that).

It was some minutes before they finally heard the car door slam and the front door open. 

Chapter Text

It was too fucking early.

Again. 

Something had to give. 

Anton had barely slept more than four hours a night in the past week, at the most. He was running himself ragged, downing large mugs of coffee and shotgunning energy drinks just to stay (barely) functional. His work schedule was all over the place and he was trying to balance time with his pack and time with Viago and figuring out the curse, all at the expense of his sleep.

He could usually operate with a solid five or so, so long as he could make up for it on his day off, but he wasn’t getting any days off. When he wasn’t at work, he was still moving house, or playing host to a bunch of rowdy werewolves or staying up all night to spend time with Viago. 

Sure, he could say no to any one of those things, but that was the problem. He didn’t want to. How was he supposed to choose what to prioritize and what to cut out when it was all important to him? He didn’t want to miss any of it.

But there were only so many hours in a day and it wasn’t just his body that was paying the price.

The laundry was piling up, as were the dishes. He’d noticed the trash needed to be taken out this morning, but he was already running late for work so that would have to wait until he got off. Which would already be later than usual because there was an after-school group coming in for a nature-slash-astronomy field day and the evening shift had an emergency thing and would be late, so his boss asked if he’d stay until they came on shift around eight thirty – which he of course agreed to.

Fuck. 

Maybe Nick was right. Maybe he needed to start saying no to more things. 

But this job was good. He loved it. Most days. And they were good to him and his weird, strict scheduling needs. He couldn’t screw that up no matter how much he just wanted to say screw it and stay home today. 

He should’ve said screw it stayed home. 

The day was absolute shit. It was raining, and not the satisfying downpour kind of rain, that disgusting mist that’s barely there but enough to make everything humid and gross and your hair go all wonky. Enough to need to turn the windshield wipers on but not enough for them to stay on, so you have to keep manually flicking them on. 

The kids were loud and obnoxious, they kept trying to pick up stones and put them in their pockets. One kid tried to eat one for Christ’s sake! He managed to wrestle it away from the runt but only just. 

He barely got a lunch break, over-microwaved his food to the point of inedibility, burned his mouth on his tea, which yeah okay healed almost instantly but it still hurt. His relief was late, because, why not? Traffic was shit. Of course. There were two separate accidents on his way home, causing the drive to take twice as long as it usually would.

He just wanted to go home and sleep for a thousand years.

He pulled into the drive, noticed the trash cans, which reminded him of all the chores he had left to do, and almost burst into tears. 

This. Fucking. Day. 

He wanted to scream (and possibly throw something against the wall, maybe his own head), but he knew from experience that letting his emotions out in any physical way led the wolf to the surface and he wasn’t in any state of mind to keep it at bay right now.

Instead, he sat there taking deep, measured breaths until he pulled himself together. It looked like most of the guys were over and Viago probably hadn’t gone out for his nightly dinner date with his crew yet. Anton couldn’t go in there on the verge of a breakdown, and he didn’t have the energy or desire to fight.

He could do this.

He’d make some food first and once that hit, he’d feel better and be able to tackle the rest of it.

He just had to get out of the car, get into the kitchen, and ignore the rest of it until he had the faculties to deal with it.  

He left the car, slamming the door a little too hard and making himself flinch with the way the loud clash of metal on metal grated on his nerves and built upon the steadily growing headache he’d been nursing for the better half of the day.

Okay, meds then food, then chores.

He had this.

He took one last deep breath before opening the front door, bracing for the noise and chaos that would follow. 

What greeted him was… not that. 

The first clue that something by was up was the quiet. He could hear the gentle murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, but that was it. No yelling or shouting, no television. Anton could count on one hand the number of times he’d come home to a house full of wolves without the tv on in some capacity, be it a video game or a movie, and one of those times was during a power outage.

The second clue was the smell. 

As soon as he opened the door he was hit with the overwhelming, mouthwatering aroma of tomato sauce and baked cheese. His knees almost buckled.

He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he’d been dreading the task of cooking but dead set on not eating another fucking sandwich or microwave meal.

He could kiss whoever was responsible for an actual honest to God dinner to come home to. 

After a moment of basking in the smell of food, other things started to pop out. The distinct lack of odor for one thing. It hadn’t been stinky per se, but you could certainly tell a bunch of werewolves had been hanging out there. Now it smelled neutral (his ideal, since air fresheners tended to give them all headaches) and clean. He could pick out the faint, unobtrusive unscented cleaning products he used, laundry detergent, was that - did someone mop?!

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

What to make of any of it, actually.  

He took off his shoes and jacket and made his way cautiously to the kitchen, taking in the spotless results of his pack’s labor as he went. 

Even the ceiling cobwebs had been dusted! 

“Hi all,” he said, unnecessarily announcing his presence as he entered. Almost the whole gang was there – minus Nathan G. – standing around the kitchen and dining room. “What’s all this then?”

“Whaddu you mean?” Cliff asked, with the absolute worst approximation of a poker face, at the same time as Declan explained with a nonchalant shrug: “just thought the place needed a bit of tidying up. Figured we’d pitch in.”

Anton was surprised but might’ve taken it at face value if that answer hadn’t been met with an indignant squawk from somewhere around the ceiling and an elbow to Declan’s ribs from Dion. 

Anton was just about to demand an explanation when Stu clarified. 

“Viago thought the place needed to be tidied. He kind of made us. But we would’ve anyway,” he hastened to add. “Eventually.” He shrugged, looking a mix of ashamed and embarrassed. It was far too puppy-like for Anton to hold any semblance of a grudge that they hadn’t just cleaned up after themselves throughout the week, thus negating the need for an apparent intervention from Viago.

Speaking of which.

Anton pressed his lips together to stop from laughing. 

“He made you?” He asked, looking pointedly at the bat hanging from his light fixture, barely the size of his hand and unable to speak. 

“Look he can be very persuasive when he needs to be,” Dion said, a forlorn look on his face as his gaze went towards the living room. “Have you tried telling him no?”

It was a rhetorical question. Anton was pretty sure they all knew the answer to that. 

As hard as he tried to hide his crush, his pack knew him better than anyone and he was confident they had all agreed at some point to just ignore it until he either did something about it or it went away. For which he was eternally grateful. 

“Fair. Well, regardless of the reason, I appreciate it. Really, really appreciate it. Bring it in,” he held out his arms, reaching for the closest wolf. 

They grumbled but piled in for a giant group hug all the same. They had the pretend they didn’t like it, but he knew secretly they loved both the contact and praise. 

He caught Viago watching them curiously from his perch and offered a quiet, private smile, motioning with a nod for him to join in the hug. The whole situation was his doing after all. Dion must’ve felt the movement from where he was squeezed in on Anton’s right side and followed his gaze to the hanging bat. 

“Get down here, Viago. Group hugs are mandatory attendance.”

“Unless you don’t feel like it, then you’re exempt,” Nathan M. clarified. He had a thing about touch and even after the bite with all of his newfound wolfy instincts kicking in, it still made him uncomfortable sometimes, but they’d learned to navigate it over the years.

Viago flew down to Anton’s shoulder, spreading his wing wide so he was touching at least two other wolves. They all squeezed in tight, trying to outdo one another on best hug. Anton laughed and ruffled Stu’s and Clifton’s hair (they were the shaggiest of the bunch after all), which set them off laughing too. After observing the joy Anton’s head pets imparted, Viago got inspired and flew around to each and every wolf, patting them on the head gently with his wing. 

The overwhelming exhaustion of the last two weeks couple with the rapidly approaching full moon and the elation of coming home to this were all working in congruence to make Anton an emotional mess about it all. 

He’d spent a significant amount of his thirties unraveling the toxic masculinity that surrounded being an alpha and just existence in general, and with that came encouraging his pack to be open and creating an environment where no one was made fun of or discouraged from expressing their emotions. 

That being said, he was certain that if he started crying now, he wouldn’t be able to stop and he really, really wanted to eat something. 

“All right, enough. I smell food.” He disentangled himself from the hug, lightly shoving Cliff where he was clinging on to his back like a limpet.

“Yes!” Nathan yelled, far too loud to be that close to Anton’s ear.

“Declan made lasagna.”

“And cheese bread.”

“Garlic-free!” Declan declared before Anton could even ask. He had been worried when he smelled what could only be Italian food, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment by asking if they’d remembered their houseguest was highly allergic.

(Wasn’t he? Anton hadn’t actually ever asked, but he assumed so based on the fact that most of the classic vampire facts floating around media had been correct so far.)

He could add it to the list of things he wanted to talk to Viago about when he turned back.

(Nevermind that he personally knew three other vampires he could ask right now).

Everyone started talking over each other, their chatter fading into background noise as he washed up and was pushed into a chair at the head of the table. A cold drink was placed in front of him and after a minute or so more of scrambling everyone was sat down for dinner. The chair to his right had been left empty, and he’d wondered about it until Viago flew over to it after everyone else had settled. Someone had piled throw pillows on the seat so that Viago could sit comfortably and still be able to see over the table. 

That overwhelming rush of emotion bubbled up again, tight in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out, but he managed to swallow it down again. 

He cleared his throat and tried to keep his mind blank of fantasies of this becoming a regular thing. 

“Wow guys, this looks amazing,” he said to the table, lifting his glass. “Cheers to all of you,” he looked at Viago to make sure he knew he was included in the sentiment too, before adding specifically to the others “and to pitching in every once in a while.” He mentally winced at himself for the passive aggression, but they all took it in stride, agreeing and cheers-ing before digging in. 

There was the comfortable silence of a meal well-cooked being devoured by a hungry crowd for a few minutes before the carbs started to kick in and knock the edge off. 

“Where’s Nathan G.?” Anton asked around a mouth full of not-garlic bread. “He’s missing out.”

“Date night with the missus.”

“Ah, well, that explains it.” 

Only a couple of the lads had serious partners at the moment, and Nathan G. and his missus were probably the most serious. Anton was expecting an engagement announcement any day now. She already knew about the wolves and came to some of their get-togethers. She was going to make an excellent pack member by proxy. 

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his pack growing in a non-violent, monster-turning sort of way.

His eyes drifted, as they tended to, over to Viago.

His wistful glance quickly turned concerned though as he noticed the bat swaying a little where he stood, a spaced out look on his face that Anton had seen before. 

Shit. 

He glanced at the clock and realized with a start it was nearly ten.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, already setting his fork down in order to unbutton his shirt sleeve. 

Viago shook his head, lilting heavily to one side. 

Anton rolled up the sleeve of his right arm on instinct, turning it palm up in an offering, an action he’d become quite accustomed to over the past week or so. 

Instead of taking a bite though, Viago lifted his head and looked around the table, then back at the wrist in front of him, eyes wide. 

He wobbled a little and Anton fought down the urge to just scoop him up and hold him. 

If he had to guess, he’d say Viago almost looked nervous. But why? They’d done this plenty of times by now, he knew werewolf blood wasn’t going to make him sick, and Declan had said the meal was garlic-free so he couldn’t be worried about poison oh fuck. 

Declan. 

The pack. 

They’d been alone for every feeding so far and he hadn’t told them what he and Viago were doing. It wasn’t like he wasn’t hiding it, but there hadn’t been a reason to bring it up and it had sort of slipped his mind.

Idiot. What was I thinking?

He cleared his throat to get the pack’s attention, not that he needed to. They were all watching the exchange with varying states of curiosity and confusion anyway. 

Great.

“We, uh, figured out the other night that Viago needs to eat more frequently when he’s like this and his friends don’t usually go out for “dinner” until midnight,” the pack nodded in understand. “So, in keeping with our general pack rules of not intentionally harming humans I offered myself as a substitute. Does anyone have a problem with him eating with us?” He tried his best to make it an actual question and not an order. He didn’t want anyone feeling uncomfortable, but he also didn’t see any reason they should make a big deal out of it and was perfectly willing to come to Viago’s defence if one of his boys said some speciest bullshit.

(It hadn’t happened in a while, but he was always painfully aware of how they’d started off their relationship with the vampires and the prejudices they all had carried and had to be ready to call them on it if needed).

Stu shook his head, probably used to vampires feeding around him by now since he spent so much time at the flat and going out with Nick.

Cliff looked like he might say something for a second, then after a glance around at the table full of unaffected faces, shrugged and shook his head.

Dion also looked like he wanted to say something, but the thought hadn’t finished developing itself yet. He shook his head in approval though, so Anton let it be.

“Great,” turning to Viago he added, “tuck in Vi, before you pass out.”

The vampire hesitated, but one final glance around the table and he was shuffling forward to sink his fangs into Anton’s waiting flesh.

He barely even noticed the sting anymore.

Anton picked up his fork with his left hand and continued eating his dinner, thankful for that time in fifth grade when he’d broken his wrist and had to learn to do everything with his left hand for a few months.

Everyone else continued their eating as well, except Dion, who, after a minute or two, finally voiced the question he’d been pondering.

“Should we have offered? We didn’t know but like, what if he’d passed out or something? Like, if you work late again, what do we do? Do we do… that?” Dion motioned towards Viago where he was contentedly lapping away at Anton’s wrist.  

“No,” Anton replied, a bit more firmly than he’d intended.

It’s not that he didn’t trust Viago to feed from his pack, he just… it felt like a them thing.

He knew, logically, that was stupid. He was projecting his own feelings onto it and making it a bigger deal than it was. It was just food. Viago needed to eat, Anton was offering him food. Simple as that.

But food was, well, complicated. There were connotations to that sort of thing. Not just culturally, but to Anton specifically. Cooking and providing had always been tangled up in emotion for him and then he’d gone and become an alpha werewolf and all those urges and associations got ratcheted up tenfold. The wolf inside him preened at being a provider, at being able to offer something that his m– that Viago needed and craved, and it balked at the idea of someone else providing in the same way.

Even though that was ridiculous.

Viago drank plenty of people’s blood. Hundreds, probably thousands, considering how long he’d been alive.

Anton wasn’t special.

It was just blood.

And yet…

He couldn’t stomach the idea of one of his pups doing it.

“There’s a blood bag in the fridge you can warm up if it’s going to be more than an hour or so.” They looked at each other, a few raised eyebrows going around, and he knew, okay? He knew it was contradictory. He knew there was logically no reason that Viago couldn’t be drinking from that bag right now, but if they didn’t call him on it, he wasn’t going to call himself out like that either.

Viago’s dinner lasted much less time than the others, but he kept himself busy flitting back and forth between kitchen and dining room grabbing Nathan an extra fork when he dropped his, the pepper shaker for Clifton, extra napkins for everyone, etc.

Anton tried to get him to settle, but he knew Vi was always a little energetic after eating, so figured he didn’t mind the excuses to fly around a bit.

Anton, for his part, was exhausted after finishing his own meal. He tried to help with clean up, but only put up a paltry protest after being shooed away by Stu.  

“Go on, go take your bath,” Stu ordered him, taking the stack of plates out of his hands almost as soon as he’d picked them up.  

“My what now? You tryn’a say I smell?” He probably did. He’d been outdoors all day after all.

Stu laughed.

“I mean, I’m not not saying it. But no, Viago set everything out for you. I think it’s his attempt at forcing selfcare on you?” At Anton’s raised eyebrow he added, “we might’ve gone a little hard on the romcoms Monday night, but you’ve got to admit, his cultural competency has skyrocketed since he’s been here.”

Anton rolled his eyes, ridiculously fond of his friends.

“Oh, uh, before you get mad, it was Viago’s fault.”

Well that’s one way to start a sentence.

“What’s Viago’s fault?” He narrowed his eyes at Stu. He wasn’t usually one to cause trouble so Anton was at a loss as to what he could be talking about.

“He wanted to smell all the bubble baths but couldn’t get the bottles open with his bat hands. I didn’t touch anything else, I swear.”

“You went in my room?”

“It was just for a second.”

“Hold up, wait, why was he smelling the soap?”

“For your bath.”

Something in Anton’s brain broke at the idea of Viago specifically choosing a scent for him and made the wolf in him want to howl. He added it to the growing list of Things to Be Unpacked at a Later Date.

Ideally, never.

He tried to reboot with a smooth transition, but he was confident Stu knew what he’d done by sharing that information if the laugh he was trying to stifle was any indication.

“Think I can let it slide this time, all things considered. S’long as my candy stash hasn’t been raided,” he added, getting a little of his own back by recalling probably the only embarrassing blackmail he had on the man. Stu was annoyingly unflappable most of the time and generally too responsible to fuck up.

“That was one time! And it was my first moon. You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

Excellent job. Subject changed.

“Nope,” he said, grinning as he walked away.

Anton turned the taps on as hot as they would go. He couldn’t remember the last time he took the time to have a bath. Lately, he’d barely had time to squeeze in a quick shower, let alone something as indulgent as a bubble bath. Even now, there was an undercurrent of guilt buzzing around his brain over taking the time for himself; making himself unavailable for a half hour or so, despite it being pretty obvious the bubble bath was considered mandatory.

He was fairly confident there’d be hell to pay if he spent any less than thirty minutes alone.

Namely from Viago. Which was…something.

Something to think about later. Much, much later.

He was having too many complicated feelings about what it meant that Viago had not only seen how burnt-out Anton was getting, but also done something about it, done exactly what he needed. And with the pack’s cooperation!

They didn’t have any reason to listen to him, but they had, without fight (or if there had been, there was no evidence of it now).

He’d never been truly worried about Viago staying at the house – his wolves were used to the vampires by now and though there were still occasionally a few speed bumps with Vlad or Deacon, they’d taken to Nick and Viago like ducks to water. (It helped that Viago was always trying to give them snacks – food really was the way to the heart when it came to a pack of hungry werewolves). B

\ut he hadn’t expected the degree to which they would welcome him. Or how happy that would make his wolf.

A swell of pride washed over him at the thought.

They could be a lot – rowdy, messy, forgetful – but they were, at heart, good.

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.

He was getting sentimental in his old age.

He poured a generous amount of the bubble bath into the water and double checked the door was locked before getting undressed and slipping into the scalding water.

Would it be hyperbolic to say it felt like heaven? Because it did.

He groaned loudly, sinking low to let it wash over as much of him as possible.

Why wasn’t he doing this every night?  

He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the tiled wall, taking slow, deep breaths of the relaxing lavender scent that swirled around him in the steam, the tension in his muscles dissolving like the fizzy bath bomb Viago had left out for him.

His thoughts drifted – where they always ended up drifting – to Viago.

He wondered if the vampire liked baths; if he found them relaxing or just thought Anton might. His thoughts flowed like syrup and, just this once, he indulged them, envisioned a reality where he came home to Viago every night. Where they had dinner, sometimes with the pack, sometimes alone, just the two of them, sitting next to each other because even the table was too much space between them. Where Anton would eat whatever delicious thing Viago had learned to cook for him, or leftover that they’d made together (Viago perched distractingly on the counter, long legs crossed, fancy sleeves rolled up, watching while Anton tried not to burn whatever was on the stove because he couldn’t pull himself away from Viago’s embrace for two seconds to stir). Where Viago would snack on him; a little nip on his wrist, an appetizer, the main course to be savoured later, in the comfort of their bed.

He thought about a firm chest behind him, the chill of a shoulder against his scalp instead of the ceramic tiles. How nice it would probably feel when the rest of him was burning with heat from the water and the hands working below it.

He cut himself off, not daring to let that fantasy go any further.

Arousal soured into shame in the pit of his stomach, and he ran a hand through his hair, splashing some water on his face in the process.

Fuck.

He wanted to chase that thought to completion and hated himself just a little bit for it.

Viago was his friend.

Nothing more.

No matter how much he wished it was different.  

The pyjamas that had been left out for Anton were possibly his softest items of clothing, and some of his favourites. He supposed it was obvious how much he liked them because of how frequently he wore them, but he’d always been a creature of habit and he’d had entire relationships with people who wouldn’t’ve been able to pick his favourite anything out if they’d been held at gunpoint.      

He supposed that said more about his taste in partners than it did about Viago’s observation skills though.

He’d always just assumed he remembered those sorts of things because of his pack instincts and that it was unrealistic to expect others to do the same. Maybe it wasn’t that unrealistic after all.

After getting dressed he’d intended to go hang out for a few hours and aim to get to bed around one or so, but it seemed his pack had other plans for him.

“Guys it’s fine, honestly,” he protested. As soon as he’d stepped foot into the living room he’d been met with objections and orders to go back to his room. He would’ve been offended if he didn’t know that it was all coming from a good place. “I already feel so much more rested and I’m off tomorrow. I can just sleep late.” His argument was undercut by the yawn that nearly split his face in half.

“Nope.”

“No way.”

“Absolutely not. Get your butt in that bed.”

They didn’t give him a chance to protest, just started herding him towards the door to his bedroom. He made a half-hearted attempt to resist but was laughing too hard to summon any strength. They pushed him over the threshold but made sure not to cross it, especially Stu.

“You know I could just stay up in here, my laptop-”

“Is on the desk out here,” Cliff informed him, arms crossed.

“I have my phone.”

To his equal delight and dismay Viago swooped over the crowd at his door and snatch his phone from his hand.

“Hey!” He yelled, more from surprise than anything.

“Yeah… he does that,” Dion said, pouting. He perked up again as a thought apparently occurred to him. “Hey Vi, can I have my switch back now? All the chores are done. Even the dinner dishes.”

Viago dropped Anton’s phone in Stu’s hands then disappeared, returning with the large handheld device Dion had purchased recently and been glued to ever since. He placed it carefully in Dion’s outstretched hands then patted him on the head before returning to Anton.

“You can have this back in the morning,” Stu said, holding up his phone. “Now go to bed.”

Words of protest died on his tongue as Viago started pushing and pulling at his shoulders until he turned around. He allowed himself to be manhandled (bathandled?) into bed, offering no resistance. He truly was exhausted. He was only disappointed to be missing out on more time with his pack and Viago, but it seemed they wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.

The door was left open a crack, just enough for Viago to slip in and out of, and suddenly the world was quiet and soft – Viago having switched off the light while Anton was getting under the comforter and rearranging his pillows for maximum comfort.

He did his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in his chest when Viago pulled the covers up to his shoulders, effectively tucking him in.

“Hey,” he said, voice barely a whisper. It felt wrong to break the peace that was folding in around him with words, but he had to say something. “Thank you for tonight.”

Viago shook his head, deflecting the credit, but Anton wouldn’t let it rest.

“No, seriously. Thank you. I feel better than I have in ages and the house looks amazing. You’re responsible for that. The lads are a lot of things, wonderful being among them, but they are not self-starters. They wouldn’t’ve done any of that without being asked and I’ve been too stubborn to do it. So, thanks. I mean it.”

Viago smiled at him, a small, bashful thing that had him smiling back in return. He squeezed Anton’s hand then reached across the pillow to gently put his winged hands over Anton’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll go to sleep now.” He kept his eyes closed, hardly a choice considering he wasn’t sure he’d be able to open them if he wanted to. His eyelids felt heavy as lead. Even so, he couldn’t help reaching out one more time. Sleep was encroaching on him now and he knew he was saying something but was barely aware of which words were coming out of his mouth. “Be careful out there tonight, can’t sleep if you’re not safe.”

He didn’t remember Viago leaving, but he must’ve at some point. Couldn’t remember him returning either, but he must’ve done that too, because there he was, safe and sound, sleeping solidly on the pillow just like he’d been when Anton had fallen asleep.

He had no idea what time it was, or how late he’d slept, but he knew that it had been good sleep however long it was, because he hadn’t woken once. No nightmares or loud noises startling him awake. Just vague impressions of a good dream that disappeared like smoke upon waking and a slight ache in his muscles that said he’d been laying in the same position for too long.

He stretched a little, careful not to disturb Viago, and closed his eyes again.

He could stand to sleep a little longer.  

Chapter Text

As a rule, the closer it got to the full moon the less the werewolves and vampires interacted.

It was just safer that way.

Emotions ran high, tempers flared, hearts were worn on sleeves.

When Anton had put the rule in place there’d been no pushback because they were seeing the vampires once a month at the most, with the exception being Stu and Nick, but even they had respected the “no contact one week before the full” rule.  

At first.

Gradually, once Stu had mastered controlling the shift and learned all the breathing and meditation techniques, he and Nick had started pushing the boundaries. And once Anton had made an exception for one, he had to adjust the rule altogether or he’d have had a riot on his hands.

So the rule gradually shifted from no vampires one week before the full to no vampires except Nick one week before the full, though Nick was still banned from any high stress events (sports, violent video games etc) three days before the full, and it was a tentative sort of probationary rule.

So far it had been going well, but Anton was always weary of what could happen.

This month, the rule had to be amended to include Viago, for obvious reasons, but Anton was still trying to figure out how to kick him out for three days (day before, of, and after at a minimum. They were always the worst) without hurting his feelings or causing offense.

It was still four days out though; he had time to figure something out.

That also meant technically he couldn’t say no when Stu and Clifton asked to invite Nick round for a friendly game of smash bros.

He should’ve said no. It was too close to the moon to be engaging in competitive games, but Viago had been talking to him using the computer and he’d been distracted deciphering his rapidly growing lexicon of abbreviations when they’d asked, so here they were, fighting to the death, metaphorically, many hours deep in an ultimate smash bros tournament that seemed to have a set of ever-changing rules.

He’d be annoyed about it if he wasn’t winning.

The rest of the lads had gradually made their way over, so they were playing an elimination teams sort of situation, only the teams kept changing depending on who wasn’t in the bathroom or getting a snack or when the last person got eliminated.

Anton wasn’t positive they were being fair, but everyone seemed to be having fun and no fangs or claws had come out yet, so he wasn’t going to start questioning it.

A couple hours in, Anton felt a tap in his wrist and looked down to see Viago’s big brown eyes staring up at him while he patted his tummy in a circular motion.

Anton chuckled at the adorable sight, but his attention was as ripped away by the rumble of the controller in his hand.

“Rude to hit a man while he’s distracted,” he chastised, working quickly to retaliate and stop his character from getting knocked off the ledge.

“I’ll take any advantage I can get. How the fuck are you so good at this?”

“Language!” Anton admonished. Just because he was bending some rules didn’t mean they could forget them all. That’s how accidents happened.

“Sorry. Jesu-fu-gaaaahhhhh!” Clifton yelled, unable to fully express the anguish of being beaten by Anton for the third time in a row.

“Okay that’s it. I’m out. Who wants snacks?” Cliff tossed his controller to Dion’s eagerly awaiting hands, stretching his long arms above his head to decompress his spine from where he’d been sitting hunched over for the last hour.

Viago raised his wing and jumped up and down on the cushion next to Anton.

“It’s not even nine. Did Stu put you up to this?” Stu was in a close second and despite his general trustworthiness, had been known to employ underhanded tactics to win a game. He was just sneakier about it than the rest of them.

Stu held a hand up in a pledge.

“I swear I didn’t, but I’m definitely not above taking advantage of it. The next game is starting.”

“Sonofa-”

Anton looked back at Viago, who was resignedly sitting back down with a pout.

Fuck it all to hell. Wiping that look off his face was worth a thousand win streaks.

But maybe he could do both.

“Compromise?” He asked Viago, quickly lifting the bat onto his shoulder before engaging in a series of button smashing manoeuvres that saved his character from being pushed off the ledge.

He tilted his head slightly to the side and sat up straight down that his neck was elongated and accessible.

Viago gave a happy trill and pressed his nose against the thin skin of his throat. Anton wondered idly if the stubble there was unpleasant and if he should maybe start shaving more often in case it ever came up again.

His brain was too busy with hypotheticals to realize Nick’s character had stopped moving altogether and the vampire in question was staring at him, mouth and eyes wide with shock.

“What the fuck is happening right now?! Is nobody seeing this?!” He suddenly shouted over the den of Nathan G. getting destroyed by Anton and Dion working in tandem before quickly turning on each other.

“Seeing you get your butt kicked,” Declan commented. He was currently on a snack break, first in line for the next shot at victory, and ostensibly keeping score, though Anton was sure he’d stopped keeping track a couple of games ago.

The boys laughed at the good-natured ribbing, but Nick’s expression didn’t change, his focus no longer on the game.  

“The vampire just casually feeding off of your alpha, that’s not bothering anyone?” He looked around wildly from wolf to wolf, searching for some kind of reaction.

“Wha- oh. It’s just Vi though,” Declan explained.

“He needs his snacks,” Dion added helpfully.

“Snacks meaning Anton?” Nick cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Nope, never mind, that tracks. I’m just – sorry, none of you care?”

“Why would we? Anton’s cool with it, so we’re cool with it,” Stu said, matter of fact. He took the controller from Nick, since he’d stopped playing entirely, considering it a forfeiture.

“Werewolves are so weird.” He shook his head again, trying to wrap his brain around the scene that was playing out before him. Anton didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told him a month ago that his pack’s reaction to him being fed off by a vampire was to sit idly by and play a video game, but well, a lot had changed in a month.

“You should know he’s got the worst aim with jugulars, you might not want to do that on the couch if you care about the upholstery at all,” Nick told him, apparently finally coming to grips with what was happening in front of his eyes.

Viago, who had yet to actually sink his teeth into Anton’s neck and had instead been spending the last minute or so distractingly choosing the perfect spot, turned to stick his tongue out at Nick.   

“It’s hilarious you think there’s a single piece of furniture in this house that’s not constantly in danger of stains or breaking,” Stu remarked, not looking away from his game.

“It’s not been a problem so far,” Anton remarked, taking one hand off the controller to turn Viago’s no doubt glaring face back to his neck, never taking his own eyes off the game. “I trust him. Besides, if he nicks an artery, the werewolf healing’ll kick in before I have a chance to bleed out.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Incident with a feral wolf a few years back. Turns out I’m a lot harder to kill than you’d think.”

“That apparently applies to video games too,” Dion said with a groan as his character was knocked off screen by Anton’s.

Anton laughed, careful not to move his head too much, and felt a hesitant pressure transform into a faint sting before his body adjusted to the feeling and it became just another background sensation, easily ignored.

“Come on, man! How are you literally being fed off right now and still winning?!” Nathan G. yelled a little while later.

“It’s a gift.”

“I’m calling break or I’m going to throw this controller out the window,” Dion declared. Anton was proud of him for recognizing that he was getting too worked up and doing something about it but didn’t want to be an embarrassing dad about it, so kept it to himself.

He’d tell him later in private.   

“Let’s take five. Anyone want another beer?” Anton asked, setting his controller aside and picking up his nearly empty beer bottle.

A few hands raised while others stood to stretch their legs and get some of their pent-up energy out.

Once in the kitchen, Anton tipped his head back to finish off the last of his beer, forgetting about the vampire latched onto him. The movement dislodged Viago and he immediately felt a warm, wet trail of blood start to drip down his neck.

“Sorr-” he began, stopping short, breath catching in his throat. Viago, fast as anything, had climbed down his chest and pulled his shirt collar out of the way of the dripping blood in order to catch it. With. His. Tongue.

CRACK!

The glass bottle slipped from his fingers and shattered upon impact with the tile floor.

He heard feet rushing towards the kitchen and called out quickly, somehow finding his voice, that everything was fine, it was just a bottle, no, he didn’t need help.

Fucking hell. Does he know what he’s doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to me.

Viago let go of his shirt and grabbed his hand instead, tracing the letters O and K, followed by a question mark into his palm. He could probably hear how fast Anton’s heart was beating.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just, uh, a little jumpy, must be the full moon coming up,” he lied, deliberately slowing his breath and willing his heartrate to calm down.

He went to the fridge to get his and Stu’s beers in the hopes that a little breathing space might help, then grabbed some paper towels to clean up his mess.

Viago flew over to help, landing on the back of his hand, the touch nearly sending Anton into another fit. Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, man.

“Careful of the glass. Here, take this to Stu. I’ll get this mess cleaned up.” He stood to grab the bottle off the counter and handed it to Viago, who took it carefully from his hand but looked reluctant to leave. “I’m fine, honestly. Go on, I’ll be there in a sec.”

One last considering look and he was gone. Anton breathed a sigh of relief. Any longer and Viago would’ve been bound to notice he was half hard in his jeans over something that was objectively not sexy in the slightest.

He ran a dish towel under the faucet and swiped at his neck in case there was any remaining blood. The action triggered his sense memory, and he was temporarily gutted by the recollection of it.  

Was it wrong to get turned on by a bat when that bat is actually a person who you’re actually, incredibly attracted to and possibly madly in love with?

Yeah, no that was still probably creepy.

Fuck what was wrong with him?

Was he that touch starved that a tongue on his neck was sending him into a sexual existential crisis and had him contemplating where the bestiality line was drawn with two supernatural creatures who can turn into animals at will?

The answer to that was obviously a resounding yes.

Fuck.

He finished cleaning up, forcing himself to keep his mind blank and to focus on the task at hand. By the time he was done, he’d calmed down enough to rejoin the others in the living room and pretend to be normal – or what passed for it amongst this lot.

Nick was eyeing him curiously when he sat back down, obviously gearing up to ask something else. Anton willed their break to be over so he could get back to the game and have an excuse to ignore him, but Clifton and Dion were still outside, and their controllers were missing, so they couldn’t start without them.  

“I thought werewolf blood was supposed to be like super gross tasting,” Nick said, clearly still having a difficult time grasping their arrangement. “Vlad said he tried it once and it tasted like dog piss.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Vlad lies?” He wasn’t being mean. That was a well-known fact amongst them all.

“I mean, yeah, but I’ve heard it from others too. Everyone knows you don’t drink from werewolves.”

Anton shrugged. He didn’t have an answer. He’d heard similar things, that werewolves were inherently repulsive to vampires, that they tasted bad, they smelled bad, etc. All things that Viago had been calling bullshit on since the curse started.

“I guess it’s just part of the anti-werewolf propaganda. It kind of works in our favour though, discouraging you lot from hunting us, so uh, maybe don’t go spreading it around, yeah?”

“Yeah, no I won’t, I’m just... this is mindboggling. It’s like everything I thought I knew was a lie. You’re sure?”

“Look, it’s not like I’m forcing him. He’s got other options, it’s his choice-”

“Yeah, obviously, of course. Which means you must at least taste better than a blood bag, right?”

Anton shrugged, ignoring the urge to preen at the acknowledgement Viago preferred him to his other options. He wished Nick would just let it go. It was just a thing they were doing; he didn’t want to dig too deep into why.

That way madness lies.

“Can I try?”

The question caught him off guard, but the room answered for him before he could even formulate the rejection in his mind.

Viago hissed at Nick from his spot on Anton’s shoulder, spreading his wings out in what might be considered a threatening manner (to a small rodent), while at the same time an emphatic “no” rang out from all the wolves – Clifton and Dion walking in just in time to hear the end of their conversation. 

Anton shrugged, offering an awkward smile.

“What they said.”

“What? You guys are fine with Viago doing it,” Nick tried to reason.

The room would not be swayed.

“That’s different,” Dion explained, taking his seat to resume their tournament.

“How?”

“Just is,” Clifton added helpfully.

“Can I try Stu?” Nick asked, trying his hand at bargaining, since Anton was clearly off the table.  

“That’s up to Stu,” Anton said, unwilling to make that kind of decision for anyone else, even though he wanted to go ahead and ban the entire pack from letting vampires feed off them lest the whole situation get out of hand, regardless of how hypocritical that was.

He wished he’d never allowed Nick to come over in the first place, then they wouldn’t even be having this ridiculous conversation.

“You’re perfectly capable of feeding yourself,” was Stu’s diplomatic response.

“So is Viago!” Nick threw his hands in the air, clearly fed up with their logic. Most of the pack had stopped paying attention to him anyway, the only one still indulging his tantrum being Stu, but that was probably because they were sitting right next to each other, so he didn’t have a choice.  

“That’s different.” Stu put an emphasis on the word “different” that Anton didn’t really know what to make of but seemed to strike a chord with Nick. Didn’t stop him from snarking back at his friend though, quieter than before.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is it’d be okay if Deacon did it.”

There was an immediate scuffle ensuing from the comment, though Anton didn’t understand what it meant. To be fair, he didn’t understand half of their inside jokes, so he just ignored it.

He couldn’t ignore the danger his lamps were in though.  

“Take it outside, lads. Some of us are trying to defend a championship record here.”

Stu tossed his controller to Declan on his way out the door, pushing Nick alongside him.

To Anton’s surprise, the pack lasted a whole two more rounds of Smash Bros before the lingering glances towards the door and restless energy finally came to a head and they begged to be allowed to go to outside too.

Normally, this close to the full moon, a group outing was a no-go, but the past few months had seen all of them showing marked improvements at controlling their shifts and he knew from experience that the more they tried to suppress their urges the more likely they were to crack under the slightest pressure.  

So he agreed, under the condition that they go out to the park, the place they’d been using for shifting and where he’d taken Viago to run, instead of hanging out in Anton’s back yard where they ran the very real risk of the cops being called on them if things got a bit too rowdy as he knew they would. 

“I call Vi,” Stu said, before they’d all even managed to make it to the clearing.

They’d decided on the way over to play something that could include everyone, so football was out, as was frisbee. Dion had saved the day with a knit hacky sack that was the perfect size and texture for Viago to be able to grab in his claws, and they adjusted the (and Anton used this term loosely) “rules” of their usual catch-slash-dodge ball game, filling Nick and Viago in along the way.  

“That’s not fair. He can fly. He’s got advantage!”

“Nick, you can also turn into a bat,” Clifton reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“We call Nick!” Stu added, throwing an arm around Nick and Cliff both.

This statement was, of course, met with resistance and groans of displeasure.

“You can’t have both vampires. Anton, tell Stu he can’t have both vampires on his team!” Declan called out like a tattling child. To his credit, it was unfair to have both vampires on the same team.

“But what if they both want to be on my team,” Stu suggested.

“Vi doesn’t want to be on your stupid team. I’m his favourite,” Dion argued back.

Nick, Stu, and Clifton all exchanged a look. Dion rolled his eyes.

“Anton doesn’t count, obviously.”

“You’re not his favourite, Stu is. He’s everyone’s favourite,” Nick assured them, patting Stu on the back. Dion crossed his arms over his chest.  

“That’s not true. Is it, Viago?” Dion looked up at Viago for an answer. Anton was also looking at him, at how uncomfortable he was getting with this line of questioning. He knew how much the vampire hated to make people sad and there was really no right way to answer that question.

“Come on now, that’s not fair. Viago likes all of us just the same,” Anton cut in. The statement was met with scoffs and eyerolls and murmurs of “says his actual favourite,” and “not all of us,” but he ignored them, and the little spark in his gut at the accusations.

“How about we leave favouritism out of it, yeah? Here,” Anton picked up a twig and broke it in half unevenly. “One vampire per team. Long stick goes to Viago’s team, short stick goes to Nick’s.”

“I kind of feel like you just insulted me.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Dec, Cliff, pick,” Anton held out his fist and the two men chose.

“Yes!” Cliff yelled, practically jumping on Nick’s back.

“Dion, you and Nathan M.”

“I’m referee,” Nate informed him, pulling out a whistle from around his neck that God only knew how it got there.

“Okay, Nathan G. then.”

Dion drew his stick and let out a whoop even louder than Clifton’s had been.

“Suck it!” He spit his tongue out at Stu (despite the fact that Stu hadn’t even drawn his lot yet) and high fived Declan. Viago flew over and high fived them both, landing on Dion’s shoulder for a rest before the game. Stu rolled his eyes, but Anton could see that he was trying hard not to laugh.

“Here, hold for me and Stu, will ya?” Nathan M. took the sticks from Anton, turning around to “shuffle” them around so they wouldn’t know which was which.

“You’re not just picking?” Nick asked, seemingly confused.

“Not very fair for me to assign myself a team when I made all of them pick, is it?”

“Yeah, but you’re the alpha, isn’t it like, illegal for them to disagree with you or something?” Nick asked, shrugging. The entire pack burst out laughing, which Anton thought was a bit much. He did have some authority, thank you very much. Not to that extent, but he could, if that was the kind of alpha he wanted to be.

It wasn’t, and they all knew it. 

He just shook his head, chuckling fondly with the rest of them.

“Nah mate. Ever heard of leading by example?”

Nick made a face.

“Sounds lame, but you do you.”

He turned his attention back to Nathan and drew at the same time as Stu, the other revealing a twig twice as long as the one Anton was holding.

“We can trade if you want,” Stu offered. Anton glanced at Viago, seeing his own sentiments reflected in the feral grin he was wearing.

“Nah, I’m good. Fair’s fair.”

As much as Anton enjoyed working with Viago, he had to admit (if only to himself) that playing opposite him had a certain appeal. An excuse to keep an eye on Viago and show off a bit? Now that was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. 

The game had an ever-changing set of rules that Anton only had a vague grasp of. It didn’t really matter.

The point of the game was to run and chase. And occasionally tackle.

Three things Anton was exceptionally good at.

He was a little on edge about the vampires taking part in their game, but Nick was holding his own so far, easily dodging several attempts at a takedown before finally succumbing to a team effort from Stu and Dion while Viago launched the knit ball right at him, scoring their team a point.

And Viago was staying close enough to catch the ball but far enough away to avoid becoming collateral damage. Also, Dion seemed to be making it his personal job to be Viago’s bodyguard, leaping in front of anything in the remote trajectory of the bat.

It was sweet to watch, if somewhat annoying because it meant that Anton had to work twice as hard to get to him.

Viago, for his part, was doing his damnedest to hit Anton with the ball every chance he got, which was a lot because every time Dion, Stu, or Declan would get it, they would toss the ball to Viago to throw since he had the best vantage point and aim.

(Anton’s team had tried that with Nick but he was a terrible shot as a bat so was banned from transforming for the rest of the game).

So far, Anton had managed to dodge every shot, but Viago was getting better at anticipating his moves with each miss and it was only a matter of time.

Anton’s team had a good balance of brute force and speed, whereas Viago’s boasted more agility and strategy. Still, they were holding their own, the game tied more often than not. Anton and Cliff used to play sports together back in the day before the pack. Now they tended to be the de facto team captains, so didn’t get a chance to work together as much. Luckily, it was like riding a bike. All it took was a slight head nod or a hand gesture and they were moving in tandem to take down their opponent. Nick caught on quick too, having played sports most of his human life. Nathan wasn’t the most naturally athletic guy, but he was fast and good at following orders. 

All of that might’ve been enough if they hadn’t been up against the dynamic combination of Stu’s and Viago’s leadership and brains, and Dion and Declan’s enthusiasm and competitiveness. 

The winning shot came not from Viago, who had scored most of the goals for their team, but from Dion. They’d all been so focused on Viago that they’d somehow missed the fact that he and Dion had faked handing off the ball. Viago had flown straight into the air after Dion had pretended to hand him the ball and they’d all fallen for it, entirely missing how he and Stu were circling in on them while Declan stayed close to Viago to sell the act.

Anton should have seen it coming. His pups had never gotten the drop on him before, but Viago did this complex, beautiful, swooping, somersault thing that he was sure would culminate in a ball being thrown his way and suddenly Nick was being taken down to his right and Dion’s shoulder was making contact with his gut, and he was making contact with the ground.

The ball came out of nowhere to hit him square in the chest, earning the winning point for team Viago.

The boys went wild, shouting and hollering, jumping up and down – even Anton’s team was caught up in the excitement, despite their devastating loss. Stu and Dion each held out a hand to help him up, and he pulled them into a congratulatory hug with the momentum of it.

Viago swooped down and grabbed Dion’s arm, holding it up in a declaration of victory. Cheers and boos rang out through the woods around them.

Anton’s chest felt tight, but it had nothing to do with being winded from his tackle.

How am I supposed to get over you? He thought, a bittersweet melancholy washing over him at the sight he was witnessing.

He should be protecting himself more than he was; should be focused on building barriers and setting boundaries. He should never have let Viago carve out a space in his life, but if he was being deeply and utterly honest with himself, there hadn’t been much to carve away at. He’d moved a few things around, maybe burrowed a little, but the space had already been there. A gaping hole that had never really been filled by anything but cobwebs and temporary tenants.

And when this curse was over – either by them stumbling onto the cure or by the end of the month – Viago would go back to his flat, his friends, his life, and leave the vacated space emptier than it had been before.

Anton knew it, with every fibre of his being, and yet, he was helpless to stop it.

As much as he wanted to save himself the heartache, he couldn’t stomach missing out on what was in front of him, offered so freely. So, he let the melancholy go just as easily as it came, choosing to focus on the precious moments he was allowed instead of what was to come.

He could wallow in that when the time came.

“Fuck I’m starving.” Nick groaned into the darkness. They were all laid out half on top of each other, exhausted and aching, ribbing one another about the game and recounting the highlights with a litany of commentary. The chatter had started to peter out, but there was still plenty of noise from the wildlife around them. “You sure I can’t just have a bite? Doesn’t have to be a full meal or anything.”

The answer was a resounding no.

“Ugh fine. You guys are the worst. Come on Viago, let’s go scrounge ourselves up some dinner.”

“Uh, I think he’s good,” Anton informed him.  

Nick sat up, craning his neck to look for Viago. His eyes landed on the bat, laid out on Anton’s chest.  He’d collapsed in exhaustion, along with the rest of them, lying on his back with his wings flopped at his sides. When Anton had reached up to scratch his nose a minute ago, Viago had reached his wings up and caught his wrist before he could let it fall back to the ground. He’d pulled it to his face and was now lazily eating dinner while Anton carefully made sure not to relax his arm too much and accidentally squish his friend.

His muscles were screaming just a little bit, but he’d endured a lot more for much lesser causes.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nick said, flopping back down in exasperation. “Rude.”

“You can feed off me if you buy me dinner first,” Nathan M. generously offered.

“You hear that, Stu? That’s what real friendship sounds like.”

Stu snorted.

“That’s what being broke sounds like.”

Nick flipped him a rude hand gesture that Anton chose to ignore. Was it technically cussing if you didn’t use the words?

“By ‘buy’ do you mean hypnotize the cashier into giving it to you for free?” He asked Nathan, continuing on as if Stu hadn’t spoken. “If so, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“I don’t care how you do it man, long as I don’t have to pay.”

“Hey, only corporate restaurants if you’re gonna be hypnotizing,” Anton cut in. “Local businesses put up with enough around here.”

“Yes sir.”

“And be careful, will ya? I can’t forbid you from doing it because that would be hypocritical, obviously, but don’t do it where anyone can see you, especially not other vampires. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said we should keep this under wraps.”

“Whatever you say, boss. I’ll even have him back by curfew,” Nick said with a cheeky wink. Despite the mocking, Anton felt confident they would abide by his rules. If not for his sake, then for Stu’s.  

Anton kicked out in the general direction of Nick, his foot connecting with something and eliciting a groaning laugh from the vampire. 

“I’m serious. The full moon’s getting close. What if his senses consider you a threat and he wolfs out when you try to bite him? It wouldn’t be surprising. The instincts kick in whether we want them to or not sometimes.”

Nick sat up again, looking pointedly from Anton to the vampire bat sucking on his wrist and back to Anton, one eyebrow raised. 

Anton kicked at him again. 

“My wolf knows Viago’s not a threat, and we’ve had enough time to get used to the idea.” That wasn’t technically a lie. His wolf definitely didn’t consider Viago a threat, but he was pretty confident Viago could’ve bitten him the first time on the night of the full moon and murder would still be the farthest thing from his mind. 

Didn’t mean he wasn’t still worried.

“We’ll be careful. If I start feeling wolfy I’ll call it off. Free food’s not worth accidentally murdering someone,” Nathan M. assure him. “And we’ll do it before I eat. I barely have enough energy right now to stand up, let alone transform.”

That was fair. Nathan M. was probably the best at recognizing when the wolf was surfacing of any of them. And he trusted that Nick had enough self-preservation instincts to get the fuck out of the way if the situation turned south.

Anton probably should’ve been more worried about it, but the anxiety that constantly lurked under his skin was pleasantly silent for once, his brain and body floating in a hazy, sleepy, sated state that he wasn’t eager to lose by working himself up about hypotheticals.

If he could’ve, he would have stayed in that moment, blanketed in the feeling of packfamilylove for the rest of eternity and been perfectly content.  

Chapter Text

Three days to the full moon Viago found Stu sitting at the dining room table working on his laptop. The screen was full of numbers and boxes, and looking at it kind of made his eyes hurt. Viago couldn’t make heads of tails of it, but Stu seemed to know what he was doing.

He perched on the back of Stu’s chair, waiting for Anton to get out of the shower. He was bored, but not bored enough to go hang out with the vampires. Nick would definitely try to talk to him about yesterday, about finding out that Viago was feeding off Anton, and Viago didn’t want to talk about it. So, he waited with Stu until the wolf in question finally noticed he was there.

“Oh, hey Vi,” Stu said, startling a bit when he realized something was lurking over his shoulder. Viago would have to remember to have a talk with him about being more vigilant when he was able to speak again.  

As it was, he simply tilted his head to the side and pointed at Stu’s computer.

Stu was quiet adept at figuring out what he meant from a few gestures or vocalizations.

“This? It’s an app – a thing that can go on everyone’s phones – for the full moon. Or, it will be soon. I’ve been working on it in secret for Anton. It’s not quite ready yet but it should be by next month, I think.” He craned his neck to look out the door and into the living room, presumably for signs of the alpha. After confirming there were none, he continued his explanation, quietly. Good thing too, because Viago was deeply confused.

“Essentially, it’ll automate all of the messages he sends out on the day so he doesn’t have to remember to do it. At six am it’ll send out “don’t forget a big breakfast,” and around eleven, it’ll do a lunch announcement, a two-hour reminder to eat snacks, an alert to wear loose pants, et cetera. There’s also going to be a roles assignment where we each get a task and it’s assigned by an algorithm so no one can accuse Anton of playing favourites. I’m thinking we should double up assignments to start with since we’re not the most reliable bunch. Two people on snacks, two on chains, and so forth. What do you think?”

Viago nodded excitedly, trilling an affirmative. 

“Yeah? You think he’ll like it? I know it’s not a huge help, but I thought it’d take a bit of the burden off him, y’know?”

Viago nodded again, reaching up to pat Stu on the head to show him how nice he thought the idea was. It was very thoughtful of him.

Stu smiled, a light blush creeping up his neck at the attention. He turned back around to the screen, pointing at things as if he expected Viago to have any idea what they were. It was nice to be included, even though he only understood about every third word of the technobabble.

“I’m even thinking about having it do an automatic takeout order for the morning after to be delivered here since we’re always starving by sunup. It’ll take a little longer to get that bit operational though. Gotta run some trials in test first before it goes into production.”

Viago gave him a claws up, parsing about a quarter of that sentence. Enough of it to be inspired.

He wondered if he could convince Nick to help him do something similar for this month. He’d been human recently enough to know what people liked to eat for breakfast nowadays. Surely, he at least knew what Stu liked and could extrapolate from there.

Two days to the full moon, Viago was finally starting to understand why they vampires were banned from hanging out with the werewolves while the moon was nearing its peak.

The pack was high strung, to say the least.

There was snipping and yelling, and Anton had needed to use his alpha voice more times than Viago had seen in his entire stay thus far.

They all acted as though they both wanted everyone to be around and no one to be near them at the same time, and then were offended when the others felt the same way! The fact that Nathan G. had left to spend the evening with his girlfriend had caused an uproar because, according to the rest of the pack, he should’ve wanted to hang out with them, but they were somehow also bitter that they didn’t have a partner to spend the evening with?

It was very confusing to Viago who had, as most vampires do, spent the majority of his afterlife in solitude before the flatting situation.

He spent the evening mostly observing from afar and trying to put out fires where he could, but it was difficult when every attempt at intervening was met with rumbling growls from Anton.

He thought at first that he’d angered the alpha by overstepping, but soon realized that Anton didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing it. A few experiments confirmed his theory – squeaking and gesturing was fine; switching the TV channel to stop bickering about what to watch elicited no response; flying in between two arguing wolves was a big no that earned not only a growl, but also an order to the whole room to “sit down and shut it” that no one was brave enough to disobey; touching was mostly a no except for single head pats, and seemed to be the easiest way to prompt a subconscious rumble from him – so Viago mostly kept to Anton’s shoulder or the arm of the couch, within reach and out of the way.

He supposed he could’ve just left and spent the tense evening with his own friends, but he felt a bit like one of those old white European dudes – what did they call them? Ethnographers? Anthropologist? – who studied tribal communities by insinuating themselves into the culture and making observations. Only less racist.

Probably.

He couldn’t be sure what influence his vampire biases were having on his observations, but still. It was a learning experience, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

One day to the full moon and he was maybe reconsidering his stance.

Things were getting tense in the Anderson household.

Apparently, according to Anton, the night before was the worst for everyone and, despite how sensitive they all were and how much they got on each other’s nerves, they’d determined through trial and error that it was safest for everyone if they stayed, for the most part, together.    

That didn’t make it any easier though.

For instance, just after Viago woke up he bore witness to one of the most needless arguments he’d ever seen, and he lived with Deacon!  

Dion got up to grab a snack from the kitchen and when he came back into the living room Clifton had taken his seat on the couch. Instead of the usual tussle that would ensue on a normal day in Viago’s (albeit limited) experience, Dion nearly burst into tears. He accused Clifton of not wanting him there and secretly wishing he would just go home and ride out the full moon on his own.

Viago expected him to laugh it off, Dion was obviously overreacting because of the moon, but Clifton started yelling too, asking if that was really what Dion thought of him and saying that yeah, he was a monster, but he wasn’t a monster!

How absurd!

If they all knew that they were irrational around this time of the month, then why couldn’t they see it? It happened every month for Satan’s sake! It surely couldn’t be that hard to take a step back and realize how silly they sounded, could it?

(Viago had just enough of a sense of self-preservation not to ask Anton that question right now.

He would save it for next week when the waning moon had less control over his friends’ brains.)

Take me 2 run

Viago typed a few hours later, finally losing his patience with all the bickering and hurt feelings that he couldn’t do anything about. He was feeling frustrated and could tell Anton was too. A little distance would do them all good, he thought.

Anton looked at the laptop screen and frowned.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea right now.”

Is

Viago insisted.

“Vi.” He put the barest hint of warning in his tone, but Viago resolutely ignored it. He wasn’t one of Anton’s pups, he couldn’t be cowed by a little bass and a stern look. Besides, this was for Anton’s own good.

U need to run. 2 pent up

“That’s for fucking sure,” Clifton muttered, reading their conversation from his spot on the other end of the couch.

“Watch it,” Anton literally and figuratively snapped, pointing a warning finger at Clifton. Viago sighed. This was exactly what he was talking about!

He flew up and perched on Anton’s outstretched finger, spreading his wings so that he couldn’t see his insolent pup anymore.

He pointed to himself then to Anton then the door.

Anton took a deep breath and for a second Viago thought he might’ve finally found the line where Anton would tell him no, but another long breath and moment passed and Viago knew he’d won before Anton even spoke.

The alpha deflated, hands falling to his sides, shoulders sagging. He sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll go for a run. Happy?”

Viago grinned widely, nodding.

Anton rolled his eyes, but Viago chose to ignore it in light of the extenuating circumstances.

Anton left to change clothes (closing his door a bit harder than was necessary in Viago’s opinion), then disappeared upstairs to find Stu and let him know he was in charge while they were away.

Viago took the opportunity to type out a succinct lecture to the pack members hanging around the den.

B good. B nice. No messes.

Each agreement was rewarded with the coveted head pats.

He then pulled Dion into the kitchen and directed him to the snack cabinet, meanwhile Nathan M. grabbed extra pillows and blankets from the linen closet and Clifton picked out a movie. A romcom per Viago’s orders (no violence, no dogs, no supernatural creatures. He didn’t want them getting worked up while Anton wasn’t there to intervene).

Stu, Declan, and Nathan G. had all meandered off earlier to separate corners of the house, but Viago wasn’t worried about them. He had a feeling they’d all come together by the end of the night.

Not to brag, but he knew he’d been right about going for a run.

As soon as his bare feet touched the dew-damp grass, Anton was a changed wolf. The pinched, stressed bunch of his muscles was replaced by a lithe looseness that looked so much more natural on his frame. The glow of the moon illuminated the forest floor, breaking through the canopy and creating puddles of light that Anton basked in, roaming from one to another, gradually letting the wolf inside off its leash a few centimetres at a time.

Viago watched from above, occasionally swooping down in increasingly complicated arcs to give Anton something to chase.

His laughter was laced with howls, echoing through the trees, and drawing responding calls from fellow creatures of the night in a cacophonous symphony. Viago thought it might be his new favourite sound; wished he could record it to play on loop. There was no way he’d ever tire of it.

He loved seeing Anton like this: uninhibited, free. Running through the woods at top speed, treading the thin line between man and beast, eyes sharp and focused and burning bright, bright yellow.

It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.  

Viago swooped down once again to tap Anton on the top of his head and fly off at top speed. Or at least, that was the intent. As he turned his body to fly off the wind suddenly changed direction with an unexpected gust coming up from his right that made him tumble a bit off course. His disorientation only lasted a moment, but in the time it took to right himself, Anton’s attention had been stolen.

He had stopped running, standing stock-still with his head tilted in the opposite direction of the wind, presumably caught on some strange new scent.

Before Viago could distract him again he was off, running at full speed in the opposite direction, steadfastly ignoring Viago’s squeaking objections.  

A werewolf, even one on the hunt, was no match speed-wise for a vampire. Even if said vampire was stuck flying as a bat (unless they were deliberately flying a little bit slow so their werewolf counterpart could feel very fast and impressive, which Viago would of course never, ever do…).

Viago zoomed ahead of Anton, trying to suss out what it was he was hunting. When he spotted the foraging bunny, his body sagged with relief.

Not a human then. 

He almost didn’t bother to intervene. There was nothing wrong with a wolf hunting a rabbit. Circle of life and all that, but he knew Anton too well. 

He knew that the taking of a life – any life, small as it may be – while he wasn’t fully in control was against Anton’s moral code and would upset him, especially now with his emotions splayed out like an exposed wire, stripped bare and sparking at the smallest nudge.

Viago tried swooping down in front of his face, trying to capture his attention, but the wolf was focused, zeroed in on his prey and unable to be deterred.

Okay. Time for plan B. 

Viago filled his lungs with air and let out a screech in a pitch that he hadn’t even known he was capable of reaching. Anton dropped to his knees in an instant, and covering his unnaturally pointed ears with haired, clawed hands. Several other animals skittered away through the underbrush and a few nocturnal birds flew off in a haste.

Viago winced in sympathy, but there’d been no other way to go about it. This body had limited options for stopping a werewolf in his tracks – not that his usual body had all that many options either. In fact, that method might’ve been more useful than anything he could’ve come up with as a human-shaped vampire. He would have to keep that in mind should the situation ever arise again.

Hopefully it would not.

He watched the bunny hop away to safety and flew down to check on his friend, landing a few metres away in an abundance of caution. 

Anton was more transformed than Viago had seen him since that fateful night when Stu had been bitten; more than he had been all night. 

He lurched forward, burying his razor-sharp nails in the dirt and letting out an anguished howl. Viago flew forward, wanting to help soothe the pain he’d caused, but his movement was halted by a loud warning growl and snap of teeth. 

“Get away from me!”

Viago retreated to a low branch and let out an involuntary squeak at the command, saddened to see his wolf so conflicted and unable to do anything to help.

Instant regret flashed across Anton’s face at his outburst and before his eyes Viago watched the partial transformation reverse itself, fur receding back to his normal amounts of scruff, teeth shrinking to fit his human mouth, nails returning to their usual blunt crescents. His eyes flickered twice and then the bright yellow was bleeding out to be replaced by hues of green and brown. 

Those eyes searched frantically for Viago, finding him easily. 

“Shit I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Vi.” Anton’s voice was hoarse and desperate.

Viago flew down from his branch, landing a little ways away so that he could gauge whether this increase in proximity was welcome or not. He started taking slow and deliberate steps towards Anton, now poised for supplication rather than a strike. Rather than stop the bat, Anton simply ran a hand through his hair, doing little to tame it, and tilted his head up to the sky, eyes closed and neck bared. 

Viago placed a wing on his knee, tentatively. When there was no rebuke he continued forward, climbing up Anton’s shirt like he’d done the first time he’d found Viago in the woods. 

He didn’t know how to make this better. 

Anton didn’t have anything to apologize for – the rabbit was fine, Viago was fine, nothing had happened – but Viago knew that logic didn’t always surpass remorse when it was so deeply entangled with guilt and shame. 

“I knew this would happen,” he was saying, more to himself than for Viago’s benefit. “It was reckless to come out here tonight. So stupid.”

Viago tried his best to offer a hug. It was awkward with his short wingspan, but manageable if he just hugged Anton’s neck. 

He felt more than heard the alpha’s whine and was a bit startled to realized he’d been slowly rubbing his head back and forth across the column of Anton’s throat, nuzzling the soft skin and prickly stubble in some bat-instinctual attempt to soothe. 

Luckily, it seemed to be working.

His breath was coming more regularly, and his pulse was a steady thud, thud, thud under Viago’s ear, still faster than normal but nowhere near what it had been a few moments ago. He felt Anton swallow, and his next words came out quiet and rough. 

“I could’ve hurt someone. I could’ve hurt you.” 

S O R R Y

He started to trace the letters against Anton’s shoulder hoping he could decipher it through the worn fabric of his tee shirt.

A hand came up and stopped him before he could finish the word.

“Don’t. There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

Viago wasn’t so sure that was true. They were out here at his insistence, after all.

(And he’d been feeling so victorious about it, too. Talk about a karmic slap in the face).

Anton must’ve sensed his hesitation because he sighed heavily, stretching his legs out in front of him on the forest floor and putting a stabilizing hand on Viago as he lay back to stare at the stars, settling amongst the leaflitter like he belonged there, the loose dirt and patches of worn grass his blanket, his pillow the crunching orange-brown leaves.

One arm reached up to bend behind his head, the other stayed where it was, hand still draped securely around Viago.

“I’m not mad. Not at you. A bit at myself. Sometimes – most of the time – it feels like I have a good handle on things, y’know? Like I have control over this monster inside of me, and then something like this happens and the wolf puts me right back in my place.” He let out a humourless huff, eyes closing before continuing. “Reminds me that control is an illusion. That I’m always one mistake away from total destruction.”

Viago didn’t like the sound of that, but he could empathize. It had taken a good handful of decades after being bitten to come to terms with what he was and what he needed to do for survival. He did not consider himself so monstrous anymore, but he supposed Anton had a much shorter timespan to work out those feelings than he had.

Maybe he could offer some advice once this curse was over. For now, all he could do was listen, and continue offering what little comfort he could through physical contact.

“Some days I think I’d give just about anything to be a normal human again,” Anton continued. “To not have to deal with full moons and keeping my emotions at bay or accidentally murdering someone. Then other days I look around and think about the family I have now and how it wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t been bitten. How I would’ve never even met half of them, wouldn’t’ve met you,” he added, almost a whisper. “I almost convince myself it’s worth it, and then something happens. I lose control, someone gets hurt, someone new gets bitten, and it’s right back to wishing I’d never learned that werewolves exist in the first place.”

He paused, absentmindedly stroking his thumb in a repetitive pattern from Viago’s brow to his throat and back up again. Viago wished he knew what Anton was thinking about, what was causing the crease between his eyes and the tightness around his mouth.

Just as suddenly as it had come on, the melancholy cleared, replaced with something softer, something resigned yet hopeful.

Or maybe Viago was seeing what he wanted to see.

“But I can’t go back. I know that. And the good days, well, there’s been a lot more of those in the last year or two. And I’d say the last couple of weeks have been one long run of good days, and that’s had a lot to do with you. So don’t be sorry, please don’t ever apologize for that.”

For the first time that evening Viago was glad that he wasn’t expected to reply. He wouldn’t have been able to summon the right words to say what that meant to him.

He snuggled harder against the crook of Anton’s neck, unsure of precisely which of the too big feelings inside his chest he was trying to communicate but needing to communicate something.

He suspected Anton understood anyway.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the comfortable silence settle around them. Gradually, the forest grew noisy once more, the wildlife that had been scared off by Anton’s outburst evidently deciding it was safe to come back out.

“Hell,” Anton said into the darkness, stretching like he’d just woken from a long nap. “I’m gonna need you to get your voice back soon so you can stop me rambling on and on like that.”

Viago sat up so Anton could see him and shook his head vigorously. He would not be doing that, voice or no.

Anton huffed out a laugh, then groaned.

“Don’t tell Cliff or I’ll never hear the end of it, but you were right. I needed this – sans nearly losing it, obviously.”

A smug grin crept onto his face.

“Yeah, yeah don’t let it go to your head.” He gently pushed Viago’s smirking face away, laughing quietly. “Regardless,” he added, tone shifting into serious territory again. “I don’t want you anywhere near this place tomorrow. Don’t give me that look,” (Viago might’ve been pouting just a tiny bit) “I nearly bit your head off and I-” he shut himself off from finishing whatever he was about to say. He started again.

“I can’t have you hurt because of me or my pack. If you won’t stay away for your own self-preservation, then will you do it for mine? I don’t know what I would do if one of us hurt you. And think of the boys; they would be devastated. Please? You can stay at the house, just don’t come out here. Promise me you won’t.”

Viago nodded and made an X across his heart with one giant claw.

As disappointing as it was, he understood the danger, and the anxiety it presented.

The alpha visible relaxed, the last of the tension finally releasing its hold on him.

“Thank you.” He glanced down at his watch for the first time, grimacing. “We should probably get back; they get antsy if I’m gone too long this close to the full. Eat on the way?” he offered, tilting his head in an obvious invitation; one Viago was helpless to pass up.

Anton gathered his shoes and jacket from where he’d left them at the edge of the forest, and they started the trek back to the car.

“I know everyone thinks I’m too high strung and that I over plan but it’s the only way to keep the wolf calm,” Anton started explaining as Viago began to feed, apparently not finished sharing. That was okay. Viago wasn’t finished listening. “The less preoccupied I am, the calmer he is when the moon takes over. Like this one time, Declan had a family emergency and was out of the country during the full. I woke up miles from here on the way to the airport as if the wolf was going to board a fucking plane to Sydney to get our pup back. It’s not always that extreme, but you get the idea.”

Viago wondered just how much of Anton’s human self bled through during a full transformation. Obviously, there was some sort of mental block there separating the two, but the wolf wasn’t dormant when the moon wasn’t full so there had to be some communication. It seemed evident from that story that there was.

The vampires had watched this horror movie a few months back with that yummy Scottish actor where his character was many different people in one body and some of them knew about the others and some didn’t. He wondered if it was like that for Anton, if there was some kind of werewolf therapist that could help him become one with the wolf, so to speak, or if that would make things worse, if it was even possible.

He would add it to the list of things to bring it up at some point in the future.

From his perch on Anton’s shoulder Viago could feel him tense, bracing himself for the possible chaos that they were about to encounter going back inside the house.

To their surprise, there was none.

The lights were off, but the blue glow from the television and their supernaturally enhanced vision made it easy to see that nothing was awry.

Just as Viago had thought, the entire pack had made their way into the den at some point, lounging across every available seat. He was happy to see that Dion and Clifton had made up, both sharing the couch they’d been arguing over, Dion’s legs draped over Clifton’s lap. The Nathans had made a rather impressive pallet on the floor with what looked like all the available bedding in the linen closet.

They motioned an invitation to Anton as he walked in, scooting over to make space in the middle for their alpha.

Snacks were passed around and everyone started talking over themselves to explain the movie thus far before Anton eventually interrupted to say he’d already seen it.

As Viago watched them toss popcorn back and forth and squabble over the remote he came to a startling realization (though, if he really thought about it, it shouldn’t have come as that much of a shock).

He loved this.

He loved them. This pack of noisy, rowdy, messy, caring, sweet, silly werewolves.  

When he’d first realized he was developing feelings for Anton he’d thought that it was despite the fact that he was a werewolf. That it was something to overlook, to pretend wasn’t a big deal, like they could somehow become a couple and Viago would persevere through lonely nights on the full moon and they wouldn’t talk about Anton’s dirty little secret. Like not acknowledging it made it less true. But the more time he spent with the alpha, the more he could see that there was no separating the two. Anton was a werewolf, whether it was a full moon or not, and Viago had come to realize that it didn’t matter. He liked Anton (loved Anton?) exactly as he was.

Only, he hadn’t really known Anton before the curse, had he?

He’d seen him with the pack at their monthly hang outs, but he hadn’t seen it. He hadn’t understood what it meant that Anton was an alpha.

Now he did.

There was no more separating Anton from his pack than there was Anton from the wolf itself. It wasn’t the same as just being friends. If Anton had hated Vlad and Deacon and Nick it would’ve been awkward, sure, but he wouldn’t have truly been missing a piece of Viago. He could’ve gotten away with being the boyfriend that doesn’t come to every social event but supports you having a good time with your friends anyway and maybe he’d miss out on a few memories, but he wouldn’t be missing out on something vital; something so intrinsic to the core of who Viago was as a person.

It wasn’t like that the other way around.

Viago knew, deep down, that it didn’t matter how in love they might be (in this hypothetical, unrealistic fantasy oh his), if Viago didn’t accept the pack – or if the pack didn’t accept him – that would be the end of it.

He was suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, second guessing each and every interaction he’d had in the past couple of weeks wondering if he’d made the right impression. They’d certainly made an impression on him, and he really, truly cared for each and every one of them, but what if they didn’t feel the same way? What if they were just being polite because Anton had told them to?  

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so bossy earlier.

He was halted in his impending spiral by a tap on his wing. He looked up to see Clifton smiling, giving him a thumbs up and mouthing “thanks,” as he pointed to Anton, who was much more relaxed after their outing – laughing and joking, tossing just as much popcorn as the rest of them when he would usually be yelling at them to knock it off.

Huh.

Maybe he wasn’t doing such a bad job after all.  

Chapter Text

The moments after the transformation were always disorienting, no matter how many times he’d experienced it.

Anton took inventory of himself first – limbs all accounted for, no open wounds, no all-to-familiar taste of blood in his mouth – then moved on to the pack. A quick head count confirmed they were all present, no one had broken free, all appendages intact. He sniffed the air, relieved to note not a drop of blood around for miles.

Overall, a good night.

Possibly the best they’d ever had.

It might’ve actually been the first time all of them had made it out relatively unscathed. Often, the wolves resented being chained up and would do everything they could to break out, up to and including biting and clawing at their own flesh, struggling hard against the chains despite the damage caused by the friction of metal and wood against their bodies. The scrapes healed quickly, but self-inflicted wounds took longer. He kept a first aid kit in the van just in case and was thankful there was no need for it this month.

The pack got to work cleaning up their mess, removing their chains from their respective trees and picking up stray pieces of torn clothing. Anton had a strict “leave no trace” policy when it came to spending time in the forest.

The damage to the trees couldn’t be helped, but they didn’t need to compound their impact by littering.

Anton waited until everyone else had picked up their things and started on the path to the van before taking one more look around for any missed items. His keen eyes picked up someone’s (it looked like Declan’s) padlock lying abandoned in the leaf litter, sun glinting off of it in a way that sent a sharp pain through Anton’s eye sockets to his brain, adding to his already growing headache.

He needed to hydrate. And eat. And sleep.

Transformations took a toll, even on the best of nights. 

He picked up the lock and a couple of scattered candy bar wrappers off the ground before turning to catch up with his pack, keeping a watch for any dropped items on the way. 

As he walked his mind wandered, as it usually did, to Viago. He thought back to that morning when he’d found his coffee cup filled with protein bars. He’d made the mistake of telling Viago that drinking large amounts of caffeine on the day of the full moon usually made him jittery and too wound up to settle. He was trying to replace the habit with eating something with protein and complex carbs for energy instead, but it was hard when most normal days he needed about twelve cups to survive. 

The thoughtful bat must’ve put them in there after Anton had fallen asleep. 

(And hidden the coffee canister on top of the cabinets where Anton couldn’t reach without standing on something).

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Dion asked, low enough that the others – all a decent pace in front of them – wouldn’t hear.

Anton was startled out of his memory, not realizing that Dion had slowed down to fall into pace next to him. He would chastise himself for not being alert, but he was too tired to muster up the mental energy for it. He barely had it in him to stay upright at this point.  

“Tell who what?”

Dion rolled his eyes, but Anton wasn’t being deliberately obtuse, it had just taken until after the words had left his mouth for his brain to make the right connections and figure out what Dion was probably talking about.

“Viago.”

“How…?”

“You’ve got this smile you do whenever you’re thinking about him.”

Anton’s expression immediately went blank.

“No I don’t.”

Do I? He tried to remember what face he’d just been making and if it was something he did often. Had to be if he did it every time he thought of Viago.

“What were you just thinking about then?” Dion countered, smugness pouring from his words.

God, Anton hated that he was right. He could lie, but his brain was still foggy from the transformation, and he couldn’t think of anything but the truth. It was too early to be confronted with this amount of introspection.

His silence evidently spoke for itself.

“Exactly.”

Anton stopped to pick up a discarded cigarette butt. Disgusting. Didn’t people know an animal could get sick or even die if it ate that? Judging by the number he found on a daily basis in the park, they neither knew nor cared.

“Well?” Dion asked, not letting him get away with ignoring the question.

“Well what? What am I supposed to be telling him?” He might not’ve been feeling his sharpest, but he was at least bright enough not to incriminate himself. He wasn’t going to say it if Dion wasn’t.

“That you’re madly in love with him.” Okay. Apparently he was going to say it. Anton’s heart started beating at what had to be an unhealthy rate and his eyes darted to the trail in front of them, checking to see if the rest of the lads had heard.

Everyone was carrying on as they had been before, no change in their pace or demeanour. Not that they didn’t all already know, if Dion was mentioning it.

“Don’t deny it,” Dion cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak. “We’ve all been watching you pine for months now, and we agreed to stay out of it but, come on. You’re literally sleeping together.”

“I fell asleep on the floor with the Nathans last night, am I in love with them too?” Anton snapped, a little too defensive, even to his own ears. Dion just rolled his eyes.

“You let him sleep in your bed. You won’t even let us do that, and you certainly wouldn’t let the other vampires do it.” There was no denying that. He shuddered at the thought of sharing room with Vlad, let alone a bed. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

“Who I date isn’t just about me; there’s the pack to consider,” he tried to explain.

“You have our blessing. Viago’s great.”

“He’s a vampire.”

“Is he really? I hadn’t noticed.” Dion clutched at his chest in mock surprise. Anton shoved him with his shoulder, but smiled nonetheless.

“It’s… complicated.” He didn’t know how to explain all of the things that could possibly go wrong if he asked Viago out; how he’d always been painfully incapable of keeping things casual before the bite and now that he was a werewolf it was a near impossibility; how it could ruin relations between the pack and the vampires and put them back at square one (or worse). How if, by some miracle, Viago did actually like him and agreed to go out with him, he’d probably ruin it somehow and Viago would end up hating him and never speaking to him again and that would be worse by far than keeping silent about his feelings for the rest of his life.

Dion, oblivious to Anton’s internal struggle, dismissed this answer.  

“You’re making it complicated. It really isn’t. You love him, he loves you. The rest’ll sort itself out,” he said with a shrug.  

“He doesn’t,” Viago was not in love with him.  

“Oh my God, Anton, I cannot deal with this level of denial.” He stopped, grabbing Anton by the front of his shirt and shaking him a little. Dion had a tendency for theatrics. “Please just tell him already! I am begging you.”  

Anton sighed and nodded. “I’ll think about it.” He waited for Dion to let him go before adding, “once the curse is broken.”

He could tell Dion wanted to argue more, to push for a more concrete answer, but Declan had turned around and was shouting at them to hurry up and get in the van because he was starving, so he let it drop. Anton leapt at the opportunity to end this painfully awkward conversation and shelve it for another time.

Ideally, never.

It was good to know the pack supported him and his feelings towards Viago, but it was irrelevant because there was no way Viago could ever love him back like that. They were friends – good friends, maybe even best friends after the past few weeks – and Anton was happy with that.

He could be.

He had to be.  

The drive home was mercifully quiet and short. There was no traffic at dawn on a Wednesday morning and everyone was too tired or hungry or nursing residual headaches to cause any ruckus.

Anton thought about the groceries he’d bought yesterday morning and how much he didn’t feel like cooking any of them. There were plenty of cold cuts and bread though; he’d been sure to stock up. Maybe they’d be content with sandwiches until after a nap, then he could summon up the energy to cook a proper meal. 

He was now hyper aware of everything was face was doing and where his thoughts were at but try as he might not to think of Viago, he kept being reminded of the vampire at every turn. 

The candy bar wrapper he pulled from his pocket to toss into the trash can, for instance. Similar to the coffee/protein bar situation, Viago had taken it upon himself to make little snack baggies for each of the wolves to wake up to, surprisingly personalized despite only “living” amongst them for less than three weeks. 

God only knew how he’d done it too. Anton suspected some intervention from one of the other vampires (Nick, most likely). Regardless, it had to have been the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for them. 

Once home, he caught his thoughts drifting again when they walked through the door. The blackout curtains ensured the house was dark, a welcoming reprieve from the too bright early morning sunlight, and there was none of the usual stress that came with the burden of tidying up after a full moon.

Whether it was due to them wanting to be on their best behaviour around a guest or trying to impress Viago, or if Viago had struck up some kind of deal with them Anton didn’t know about, he wasn’t sure but whatever it was, the pack had all been pitching in to clean up after themselves and each other recently and he was grateful. 

He walked past the well-worn copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that lay neglected on a side table on his way to the kitchen, his fingers brushing the curling cover of the old paperback. They’d finished Dracula a couple days ago and Viago had eagerly chosen the volume to replace it.

The open laptop for communicating, the stack of pillows in the dining room chair, countless little accommodations that weaved effortlessly into the fabric of his everyday life.

He caught Dion’s knowing smirk and quickly schooled his features into something neutral.

Rude.  

He glared at the kitchen cabinets, trying to muster up the gumption to make something edible that wouldn’t leave them waking up in a few hours with growling stomachs. Right as he’d finally managed to make himself reach for the bread, the doorbell rang.

Every head turned towards the door, tilting slightly to the side. He would’ve laughed at how dog-like they all looked if he wasn’t too damn tired to exert that much effort.

He opened the door cautiously – everyone who ever visited him was already here, except maybe Nick, and it was daylight so definitely not him.

The man at the door was holding frankly far too many bags of delicious smelling food, struggling to read off the phone about to fall from his overburdened hand.

“Order for…Viago? Is that a typo?”

“No. It’s German,” Anton replied automatically, still trying to process what was going on. Had Viago ordered them breakfast?

The smell brought a crowd to the door, the lads making quick work of unburdening the delivery guy of his haul and carrying it off to the dining room.

“Can Viago live here?” Nathan G asked, practically moaning over the massive Styrofoam container of sausages he’d just pulled out of one the bags.

“How’d he know?” Cliffton asked the question that was swimming around Anton’s brain too. He guessed it was probably a pretty easy leap of logic that a bunch of werewolves would have worked up an appetite after the full moon, but Viago didn’t eat; he didn’t have any reason to think about stuff like that. When they’d started hanging out, he (and the rest of the vampires, except Nick) genuinely thought he and the lads ate dog food. This was… a step up, for sure.

“Oh, that might’ve been me. We were talking about it the other day,” Stu mumbled, scooping a heaping portion of scrambled eggs onto his plate and passing the container down to Dion.

“Well cheers Stu. Everyone remember to give Vi a proper thanks when he wakes up, yeah?” Anton said, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered at the suggestion of Viago moving in for good and getting started in on filling his own plate.

Six sleepy heads nodded back at him.      

Breakfast was a subdued affair, everyone’s bodies warring between exhaustion and hunger. Nathan M. had to be nudged awake several times and there was an incident with some jam covered toast and Dion’s cheek before their bellies were sated enough to call it quits and go to bed. 

The day after the full was always considered a wash. Even though Anton was used to staying up all night and functioning the next day – as he had to for work sometimes – the physicality of the change, the sheer amount of energy that it took from both body and mind was draining to say the least. They would sleep, probably all day, wake for a few hours, eat again, then be back in bed before midnight. 

The next day they’d be back to normal, well rested and ready for the weeks ahead, but today was meant for recharging and replenishing, and oftentimes for healing. Anton was thankful once again that this month they wouldn’t be needing to do that. 

Walking back into the den he noticed a change he hadn’t when he’d first come in.

The blanket pile they’d left on the floor from the previous night had been upgraded. Couch cushions had been added as a bottom layer for extra padding and blankets and pillows from the guest rooms had been scattered around on top adding to the already substantial pile of bedding that had been there. 

He smiled himself, steadfastly not checking to see if Dion was watching. 

Anton wasn’t used to people listening to his offhand comments and filing them away for future use. He’d mentioned to Viago how they all tended to crash together in a dogpile – for lack of a better term – after the moon, finding comfort in each other’s touch and scents. 

It was one of the facts he’d tried to use to convince the vampire he probably didn’t want to be around for the full moon; if there was ever a time when the house would reek of pure wolf it was then. Obviously, Viago had taken that knowledge and done something else entirely with it. 

Anton stopped by his room to change out of his bark and sweat-stained joggers and into a pair of clean ones.

A shower could wait until he was sure he wouldn’t pass out halfway through it. 

The sight of Viago’s sleeping form caught his eye as he finished changing.

He stared at the small figure curled around his favourite stuffed toy, the achy, too-big feeling inside him threatening to burst from his chest. 

How long had he been dreaming of this? Of meeting someone who didn’t just tolerate his being a werewolf, but fully embraced it? Who cared about his pack just as much as they cared about him. Someone who he could be himself with, who saw his nerdy, homebody tendencies and didn’t make fun of him for them. Who understood that being an alpha was just as much about nurturing as it was leading, and not at all about the macho, bullying bullshit portrayed in the media. Someone he could talk to, tell his deepest secrets to, his fears, his dreams, and not feel judged. How many moons had he spent wishing he had someone to come home to, to snuggle up with, to share a hot bath with. How many times had he wished to be seen, to be known, to be understood, the way he knew, deep in his bones, that Viago understood him. 

“Fuck, I love you.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush of breath like they’d been fighting to break free for ages (they had) and his guard was finally down enough to escape. 

His eyes flew to Viago’s face in a panic, but there was no movement, no acknowledgement that his slip had been heard. 

Thank god. 

The problem was, now that he started, he couldn’t stop. He had to say it all, even – especially – if Viago couldn’t hear him. Maybe if he got it off his chest it would be easier to say it in the future.

Or not to say it in the future. He still hadn’t decided on which.

“I don’t know how to tell you how much everything you’ve done means to me without also telling you that. Maybe I should,” He sat on the end of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, coming away with a previously unnoticed twig. “Maybe I will, once the curse is broken, I just – I can’t stand the thought of losing you, Vi. I’d rather pine from afar for the rest of my life than ruin things between us by saying something.” 

He knew Dion thought he should do it anyway, that it was a sure thing. Hell, the whole pack probably felt that way, but Anton wasn’t convinced. Once Viago was his normal self again, once he was fully in control again, things might be different. 

They’d been inching closer over the past few months, but he could never get a good read on whether it was interest or simple curiosity. 

If Viago still wanted to spend time together like they had been after the curse was broken then, yeah, maybe he’d work up the courage to say something. Until then, he had to keep making himself believe this whole thing was one sided. 

Nothing hurt like hope. 

He sighed, exhaustion seeping into his bones. Even as smooth as their night had been, it was still a transformation and those took a toll on the body and mind. He needed rest. 

“Come on, you should be a part of this too,” he said to the sleeping bat, carefully scooping him and his plushie pillow up. “You’re honorary pack this month.” As soon as the words left his mouth he felt something restless inside himself settle, something weighty and warm coursing through his veins, mixing into his marrow. 

He returned to the den of waiting werewolves and took his spot in the middle of the sprawled chaos, carefully placing Viago next to his own pillow between himself and Stu. 

The lads were passed out as soon as their heads hit their pillows, bellies full and bodies exhausted as they were.

Anton looked around one last time, fighting the heaviness of his eyelids in favour of appreciating the sight of his pack, his family, safe and sound, after a transformation night.  

Viago was nestled safely next to Anton’s shoulder, unconsciously shifting closer like a furry heat seeking missile so that when Anton turned his head to look, the bat’s sleeping face was eye level with his own. 

“Thank you for being a part of this.” He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the vampire’s tiny forehead. “Sweet dreams, Viago.”