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The thirst is all consuming, his gut twisting and convulsing from starvation, aching to be satiated.
Dick can barely think, let alone hold himself up, which is how Wally finds him, pallid and trembling and lying limp on the floor of his room.
“Robin!” Wally shouts, falling to his knees beside him.
Immediately, Dick flinches back, his head hitting the wall as he tries to create distance between the two of them.
“What? What is it?” Wally asks.
Dick doesn’t respond, knows if he does, he would reveal the fangs that lie beneath his lips.
“Talk to me, Rob. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Dick knew, distantly, that he would have to tell Wally eventually. He’s his best friend. He’s more than that. He loves Wally and he thinks Wally loves him too.
Which is why it’s so terrifying, the idea of telling him, of revealing to him what he is.
He can’t lose Wally.
He can’t.
Dick lets out a pained moan and Wally goes to pull him up and Dick’s mind goes fuzzy as his nose presses against Wally’s throat, the beautiful intoxicating scent of blood hidden behind his pale skin. Another moan escapes his throat, this one now of want.
“Wally,” Dick tries to warn. “You have to get away from me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m going to hurt you.”
Wally shakes his head. “No you won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” Dick says, and when their eyes meet, the blue in his irises is consumed by black, Dick’s gaze falls frozen on Wally’s pulsepoint.
“I do. You would never hurt me.”
“I would never mean to.”
“Then don’t.”
“Wally—”
“What? What’s wrong, Dick? Just tell me.” He looks at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
“I need to… feed,” Dick says. “We’ve been so busy with missions and I’ve over-exerted myself and we’ve been all over that I don’t have access to my usual… stash.”
“Stash? Of what?”
Finally, Dick tilts his face up and reveals his fangs. “Of blood.”
Wally’s eyes go wide but quickly soften. “Dude, we know literal aliens. You think you being a vampire is gonna freak me out?”
And there’s a rush of relief that shoots through Dick. Wally doesn’t hate him. Isn’t disgusted by him. Isn’t—
Wally tilts his chin up, baring his throat to Dick. “If you’re thirsty, you’ve got a perfect drink right here.”
“Wally, I can’t—”
“You can,” Wally says, pulling Dick’s face into the crook of his neck. “I trust you, Dick. With my life. And with yours. So… please. You’re starving and I won’t watch you kill yourself when I’ve got perfectly good blood here for you to drink.”
“I can’t,” Dick repeats.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll be ruined if I do. No blood will ever satisfy me but yours.”
Wally pushes his face into his warm skin. “Then be ruined.”
And so Dick does.