Work Text:
The wind whistled against the windowpane. Neil rustled and tangled himself on his bedsheets. The comforter had fallen to the floor. Andrew attentively stared from the chair in the corner.
Andrew paused. This was so creepy. The guy he had a crush on laid so vulnerable and unaware, and here he was staring at him like a stalker. It didn’t matter that Neil and him were becoming close friends. And that they had started trusting one another with slivers of truth. How would Neil react if he woke up right now?
Andrew ignored his racing thoughts and focused on keeping his steps light as he paced around the room. Andrew couldn’t sleep. He never could. Not even when he was human. But sitting at home miles away while Neil slept defenseless with murderous vampires now in Forks stressed Andrew out more than he could handle. He had never been this worried about a human’s well-being since Aaron.
Andrew walked closer to Neil’s bookshelf and dusted off an old copy of Emma by Jane Austen. This must have been his hundredth reread of it, and he knew the entire book by memory. But he needed something to pass the time. Something so that he wouldn’t spend the entire night just staring at Neil’s sleeping form.
He began reading, turning the pages carefully as to not disturb Neil’s sleep. Andrew knew the redhead was a light sleeper, with all his paranoia surrounding his dead father coming back to haunt him from the dead. Andrew couldn’t exactly reassure Neil by reminding him Nathan was dead, because technically so was he, and the rest of his family.
Neil tossed and turned in his sleep. His hair looked like a bird’s nest atop his head. He snored lightly. Andrew fought to keep his eyes on the book pages—and not stare. But he lost that battle pretty quickly when he heard Neil call a name.
“Andrew.”
The vampire snapped the book shut and kneeled at the foot of Neil’s bed. If he had a beating heart, it’d be drumming wildly. Andrew stopped his manual breathing to train his eyes onto Neil’s whispering.
“Mmh, Andrew.”
Neil continued to make soft breathless noises in his sleep. He kept repeating Andrew’s name, accompanied by the occasional soft breathless whimper.
Andrew shook his head and stood away from the bed. He’d die to be able to read Neil’s mind right at this instant. He squinted his eyes and focused extra hard on breaking through Neil’s mental shield, but as always, it didn’t work. He wanted to know how Neil perceived him, what dream-Andrew was doing. Was dream-Andrew hurting Neil? He knew Andrew was a vampire after all. Maybe his subconscious was warning him of danger and—
Neil’s moans slightly intensified and it became clear to Andrew what type of dream Neil was having. It felt like the whole world tilted off its axis. Andrew rubbed his neck awkwardly at the growing arousal on his stomach and he backed away to the window. If Andrew had any blood circulating around his body, he’d be flush red. He carefully slid it open, shut it, and then dashed through the night.
He tried to be quiet as he entered the window of his bedroom at home. But Bee had heard him come in. Because of course she did.
“Andrew, good to see you back home so early.” She remarked with honeyed sarcasm.
Andrew gave her a bored look. “I was out feeding.”
Bee smiled knowingly, “On rabbits?”
Andrew feigned innocence, “They’re fast little creatures.” He shrugged.
Bee chuckled in amusement, “We’re watching a movie tonight, that one Nicky was raving about, if you’d like to join us.”
Andrew rolled his eyes and made a snide comment about how Nicky had to get over his decades long crush on Robert Mitchum and stop forcing everyone to watch his entire filmography. Bee just smiled and told him they’d wait for him downstairs with warmed up blood bags with a tinge of hot cocoa, just for him. She knew him too well.
As he watched Nicky gush about Mitchum’s repetitive performance, settled comfortably between Renee and Aaron, he couldn’t help himself but think about the beautiful noises escaping Neil’s plump lips. If he could only take a bite, he’d be so gentle, Neil wouldn’t even bleed.
—
When Neil woke up in the morning, he stretched widely, aggressively kicking the covers off him. He had a weird dream last night. Of Andrew just staring at him from his desk chair. But that couldn’t be right. Andrew had said he’d be camping with his family all night, and Neil knew what that meant.
He disregarded the strangely realistic dream. He’d been dreaming a lot about Andrew recently regardless and he rather not think too much about the content of the dreams in the morning lest his knees become weak and his day derailed with thoughts of the man’s hazel eyes, teasing smirk, supernatural strength and strong arms.
Neil shook his head and felt a flush creep up his neck. When he finally got out of bed, he noticed his copy of Emma on the floor. He got it for an English lit assignment back in Millport and he had not touched it since.
He stomped across his bedroom and threw the door open. He didn’t care it was an early Saturday morning as he yelled, “Kevin, stoop snooping around my room!”
“Boys, quiet down!” Wymack gruffed from downstairs.
Neil huffed. He had better things to do than argue with Kevin today. He’d go on a run, and hope to meet Andrew on his way. Maybe he’d architect a new running route through the Dobson’s lofty, remote grounds. And he’d say he was on a hike or something.
Neil groaned. Totally suspicious and creepy. Gosh. Be normal. He mentally reprimanded himself. He tied his shoelaces and went on his usual route, maybe hoping that he’d bump into Andrew somewhere along the way.