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"Alright, guys, that's a wrap for today!"
A tension eased from Guillermo's shoulders as the director's announcement rang through the house. It had been a long night of filming; Nandor had dragged them all on a wild goose chase, convinced that one of the local bats was actually an old flame of his. More than once, Guillermo had to help a crew member through particularly treacherous cave systems in an attempt to follow his master. In the end, it ended up being a perfectly average bat, and one that Nandor didn't actually have much interest in by the time they caught it. All the scrapes, grime, and effort for nothing. He wasn't even sure the footage was good enough for the poor documentary crew to use.
Now that filming was done, Guillermo trudged down the hall to the green room to de-mic and remove the makeup necessary for him to look presentable on camera. It was an exhausting but necessary part of his daily routine. It looked so much easier for him to go to bed in the final cut of the documentary, where he just curled up in his day– or, rather, night– clothes and drifted off. But that was all for show. In reality, it was a lot more of a process.
For one thing, he actually wore pajamas to bed off-screen. So did the vampires. Sleeping in all those layers was uncomfortable enough in a bed, let alone a coffin. All of those times Nandor had been shown rising from his coffin fully-clothed in the documentary was as rehearsed as any scripted show. Usually, Guillermo would change in his room after going through his post-filming routine, but he was so tired this morning that he just grabbed a set of pajamas to change into in the green room. He figured the vampires would also be too tired to even bother with the green room tonight, anyway, so it wouldn't be an issue.
Of course he was wrong. He was always wrong about these things.
He stepped into the green room– which was, in fact green; Nandor refused to call it that unless it was actually green, which made Guillermo's theatre kid blood boil enough to change the wallpaper himself-- and was immediately hit with the bustling noise of his roommates getting ready for coffin. Jaques, the assistant sound tech, was gathering Colin Robinson's mic in one corner, looking rather drained already. There were vanities along one wall to mimic a professional-grade dressing room, where Nadja and Laszlo were wiping off each others' makeup. They didn't use the mirrors, but found the bright lighting to be useful and Laszlo insisted on keeping up the professionalism of the mirrors. He was just as much of a theatric as Guillermo, after all.
The only one still missing was Nandor. Still safe enough, Guillermo thought as he situated himself in his usual corner on the far end of the vanity.
"...No, Colin Robinson, I do not think it was necessary for you to transform into a cat to drain the poor lad," Laszlo argued, continuing the conversation from before Guillermo entered. He figured he didn't really want to know what the others had been up to that night, but that he was unfortunately about to find out.
"He was allergic to cats, I couldn't waste the opportunity!"
Nadja nudged Laszlo's cheek with her thumb to get him to turn and continued wiping his face. Without looking up, she retorted "Yes, yes, but what my sweet was saying is that you could have easily drained him the usual way."
"What if I wanted to mix it up?" Colin Robinson protested as he loosened his necktie. Jaques had finally fought his exhaustion enough to finish unhooking the energy vampire's mic and made his way over to Guillermo, who removed his sweater to make the removal of his mic easier.
"You could have 'mixed it up' at a time which didn't involve the man driving our ou-beare!" Laszlo punctuated his scolding with a flourish of his wrist, ignoring Nadja's quiet grumble to hold still. "You're damn lucky you survived the wreck."
It was at that point that Guillermo noticed the scrapes and bandages that speckled Colin Robinson's head and arms, now prominent in the harsh vanity lighting. He felt bad for the super-healing-less Uber driver. If Nadja and Laszlo didn't eat the guy, he was probably in pretty bad shape.
He decided it was about time to tune the others out. Once Jaques was done, he popped in some earbuds, loaded up a cotton pad with micellar water, and closed his eyes. There was something especially peaceful about this part of his routine. The vampires he loved were still there, brightening the room, but he could just be in his own little world, letting the soft cotton wipe away the evening. He would probably need a shower, too, but he could do that in the afternoon when he woke up. Now, he just wanted to be done for the night. If only he could fall asleep right there at the vanity...
"Guillermo?"
A deep, soft voice shook the human from his slumber, accompanied by large fingers hovering over his shoulder. He had only been out for a few minutes, he guessed, but the others were already gone. He still had the cotton pad in his hand, his makeup only half removed. Whoops.
"Master! Sorry, I guess I just-"
"It is okay, Guillermo," Nandor chuckled, his voice as sweet and warm as honey. "Tonight was particularly exhausting for all of us. Just try to finish removing your made-up next time, yes?"
Nandor was never this genuine onscreen, and Guillermo cherished it when he got to see this side of him after the cameras stopped rolling. The teasing was still there, but there was more care behind it, a lighter touch to it. In the almost seven years of filming, Guillermo never figured out why that was, and he was certainly too tired to examine it too much tonight.
"Now that you are awake," the vampire sighed, "would you mind...?"
"Yes, right, of course, master."
Guillermo cleared the fog from his mind the best he could and stood to help Nandor with his tunic. He didn't actually help Nandor dress or undress as much as the documentary implied anymore– the documentary crew had professional costume assistants on staff– but he still acted as a stylist of sorts and helped with the particularly complicated clasps and buckles. The tunic he wore tonight was one such garment, with annoyingly fragile clasps that were too small for Nandor to unfix himself.
"Guillermo?" Nandor asked again, this time with a curious intonation.
"Yes, master?"
"Why are you still calling me 'master'?"
Guillermo's stomach tightened. He was far too sleepy to deal with this right now, so he decided to shut down the conversation the best he could. "Force of habit, I guess.”
Nandor let out a soft hum as Guillermo fiddled with the last of the clasps. “You know you do not have to remain my familiar anymore,” he stated, “you do not have to remain… here. If you do not still wish to become a vampire.”
Guillermo froze as the clasp came undone. His face burned, his soupy mind sloshed around as if it had been shaken. God , he was too tired for this. “I never said that. I still do, someday.'' He was standing up straight now, but refused to meet Nandor’s eyes. “Besides, what other option do I have anymore?” He mumbled the last bit, barely audible without vampire hearing.
“You could leave.”
“Do I look like I want to do that?” Guillermo snapped.
“And why not?” interrogated Nandor. His expression remained stable, unreadable, the same walls he built in front of the camera returning.
Guillermo huffed and returned to his task of removing his makeup. He was thankful that, if he looked only in the mirror, he could pretend that Nandor wasn't still next to him. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
Nandor hummed again, deep in thought. He almost seemed to be strategizing. He must have been, since his next few actions could be described as nothing besides calculated.
“I am simply curious, Guillermo.” A slightly lecherous tone seeped into Nandor's voice, enough to draw Guillermo's attention back to him. And, enough to make the human aware that he was, in fact, trapped in a corner. “Why is it that you have still chosen to stay, after becoming a human again? Or even after becoming a vampire, for that matter? Why did you not run, as any typical human would?”
Guillermo's eyes blew wide as he watched the sight before him in awe: Nandor, while maintaining a magnetic hold on his gaze, slowly removed his tunic to reveal his sheer undershirt. The action itself was innocent, they were in a dressing room, after all. But the pace, the positioning, the eye contact… he had to know what he was doing. And the worst part was, in Guillermo's delirious state, it was working .
After a moment, Guillermo looked elsewhere, desperately trying to find another distraction to break the tension now that his makeup was fully removed. He searched and searched, until his eyes landed on his pajamas, neatly folded on the chair next to his.
Oh, two could absolutely play at that game.
“Well,” he said as he began undoing his shirt buttons, letting his response marinade until the moment was right. He relished the surprised expression on Nandor's face, how the vampire was now hanging on his words for a change. A smug grin spread across his cheeks. When he reached the last button, he looked back up at Nandor, returning the eye contact, and confidently slipped off his shirt. “I guess I'm not a typical human.”
A low purr sounded from Nandor’s throat. His eyes betrayed his practiced, stoic expression, surveying Guillermo's now bare arms and chest that was barely covered by his tank top. There was no way the vampire could recover from that particular defeat, Guillermo thought, so he might as well drop it. He turned away slyly as he fiddled with his belt buckle.
“That didn't answer my question.”
Goddammit. Really ? Guillermo thought for sure that would shut him up. So much for a little tasteful distraction.
The truth was, Guillermo wasn't entirely sure why he stayed either. Just a vague sense that he cared about the vampires and didn't want to leave just yet. He didn't have a logical excuse anymore like he did with Baby Colin and the wedding, he just… liked it here. Not really much deeper than that. Still, that answer probably wasn't what Nandor was looking for, and he was too tired to bullshit something. Might as well just keep putting it off–
“Guillermo.”
Nandor appeared just inches away now, looming over him. In his surprise, he let his hands fall to his sides, accidentally dropping his pants to his ankles. Fuck.
And then Nandor looked down. Fuck .
Guillermo scrambled, hot faced, grabbing his pajamas from the chair and almost tripping in his attempt to put on the flannel pants. “Look, I don't know, Nandor. Can we please talk about this tomorrow when I'm not exhausted?” Pants were secured. Crisis averted.
At least, until he noticed how Nandor was looking in the mirror. Not at himself, as he had no reflection, but at him . His eyes were intense, the yellow light of the vanity dancing in his dark irises.
He wasn't sure why, but in that moment, all of the embarrassment and annoyance he had built up that night flooded out of him as he gazed at Nandor. Maybe it was the sharp lines of his face glowing in the light, maybe it was his considering expression, or maybe it was the way his chest peeked out of his flowing undershirt, unmoving and strong as a statue. Or, maybe, the late hour was getting to him, but that excuse was getting old.
“You,” he uttered.
“Hm?”
“You're the reason I stayed.”
The two stared for a long while as the weight of Guillermo's admission sank in. When it finally did for Guillermo, he babbled something about needing to finish his routine in his room and rushed out, abandoning his t-shirt along with his dignity.
Nandor simply stood there, staring through the mirror at nothing.