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And the thing is, William should have known. He’s read every book on the occult, and watched more movies about the supernatural than he can count. Anyone who looks at him knows there’s something different about him, with his black skinny jeans and too-big wolf shirts and a complexion reminiscent of a sheet ghost. There’s something strange in way he moves, and acts, and stares at Vyncent–unblinking–for just a little too long,
But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? William didn’t even notice.
When they were fighting an up-and-coming team of villains, William didn’t pay much mind to Vyncent’s relatively minor injuries, except to lament that one of those assholes had bitten Vyncent on his shoulder. So what, he’s the jealous type, and with all of the messed up parts of William Wisp mixing together in that moment, he had wondered just a little what Vyncent’s blood would have tasted like in his mouth for a change. It’d probably taste like metal, like normal blood, but William did still wonder. Just for a moment. Vyncent had ended up with some of their opponents’ blood all over him, so realistically, the blood on his mouth probably wasn’t all from his own split lip.
Then later on, when Vyncent had started avoiding stroganoff more than usual, William had just enjoyed that he could convince him to find somewhere else to eat. Sometimes, they’d even cook together, and that did wonders for William’s domestic fantasies, even if Vyncent was bad at seasoning and had a weirdly specific list of foods he would avoid. And they would cook at night, too, because Vyncent would flinch at sunlight, and William didn’t even think to question the change. They’re all strange, so why would this time be anything more concerning than the other billion things wrong with the Prime Defenders?
Realistically, William should’ve caught on when he was wearing a band tee with some (inaccurate) religious imagery on it, and Vyncent had asked him to take it off. To be fair to William, he had been a little too enthusiastic at the request, because it’s not every day Vyncent Sol, the guy he’s in love with, asks him to take off his shirt. And they’d stood there, awkwardly, in the hallway, in silence. William knows himself, and knows he had been blushing. Vyncent’s face hadn’t reddened at all. William had just taken it as some sort of sign– Albeit a confusing and very homoerotic one. It was a sign, just… not of what William had hoped.
In the end, Dakota had been the one to figure it out. The way he had tested his new theory was by gifting both William and Vyncent a bottle of SPF 150 sunscreen, which the latter had promptly attempted to drink. After a confusing few minutes, and a call to poison control, Dakota had said outright that he accepted Vyncent no matter who he was, and that he loved them both. With some pressing, he had elaborated further, explaining that he had been watching Twilight and listening to My Chemical Romance in order to understand how to take care of Vyncent now that he was a vampire.
William had just about fallen to the floor in a mixture of “oh-fuck-Dakota-figured-it-out-first” and “oh-god-Vyncent-is-becoming-my-literal-teenage-dream.” Fortunately, he had managed to remain upright despite his wobbly knees. Vyncent, however, did not manage to remain so calm. It had taken Dakota and William another hour to make him understand what a vampire was, and then another to convince him that it was fine and they’d fix it, and for now Dakota would find some blood.
With that, Dakota had left them there, alone, sitting on the floor of Vyncent’s room in Hartawa. William is trying really hard to convince himself that he’s feeling normal about it, and Vyncent looks equally as baffled.
“How did I not notice?” Vyncent asks.
William can’t tell if it’s rhetorical, so he answers. “I didn’t notice either, don’t beat yourself up about it. You haven’t even seen all the vampire movies and stuff, how were you supposed to know what to look out for?”
“I’ve heard about them before, I think the Greats fought them a few times. They told me stories about it, Will!” Vyncent laments. “It’s obvious.”
“They- they what? Are you telling me there are actual vampires in Fauna?”
“...You don’t have them here?”
“I don’t think so?” William says, voice rising at the end in uncertainty, making it sound like a question.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, they’re in, like, movies. And folklore. Remember the, uh, the old movie we watched? About the guy in the castle drinking blood?”
Vyncent drops his head forwards into his hands, elbows resting on the knees of his crossed legs. “I thought that was a documentary.”
William wants this guy so, so desperately. He doesn’t know which one of them has the worst affliction right now, especially with how appealing Vyncent is being. The way he’s grabbing at his hair in mild distress, the strands coming loose, the deep and utter obliviousness– yeah, that’s just William’s type.
“I’ve been so thirsty,” Vyncent continues, “But WebMD said I was probably just diabetic. And the, the stroganoff, fuck, it’s the garlic, Will. I can never have Tony’s pizza again.”
“That’s pretty concerning, Vynce. Even if it was diabetes, that’s a pretty serious thing to ignore.”
“Yeah, ‘cause your asshole brother is buying all the insulin-”
“Respigen,” William corrects.
“Respigen, whatever. I thought I was developing a weird fixation on people’s necks, Will! That’s not even a symptom of diabetes, what is wrong with me?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing wrong with you.” William pointedly doesn’t think about Vyncent becoming fixated on his neck. “Well, okay, except for the… becoming a vampire part?”
Vyncent lets out a wail of despair, burying his face further into his hands.
“We’ll figure it out,” William attempts to reassure him.
“I’m just so thirsty, man, I’ve been drinking so much recharge.”
“So that’s where it’s been-”
Vyncent cuts him off; “I don’t even like it that much!”
“I don’t know what you want me to do about this, to be honest.”
There’s a moment of silence between the two, and William goes over every possible solution he can come up with. Unfortunately, many of his better ideas (animal blood, artificial blood, donated blood) are overrun entirely by his stupid, gay brain.
“You could drink some of my blood, if you want.” The suggestion escapes William’s mouth without him realising, an instant blush covering his face as he realises what he just said.
“What?”
“Yeah,” William doubles down. “I’m already dead, so, like, you couldn’t kill me more if you drank too much. And I could probably stop you if I needed to.”
Vyncent lifts his head out of his hands, frowning. William imagines him with blood on his mouth and feels himself getting light-headed. It’s so normal and fine. He’s doing this to help his friend. And sure, he has some ulterior motive, but they’re on Hartawa and getting their hands on other blood is going to be a logistical nightmare and take hours (or days, for human blood), no matter how hard Dakota tries.
“Really?” Vyncent asks.
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing. Besides, I think vampires are cool. Almost as cool as wolves.” William is so good at pretending to be chill. “I’ve always been curious about what it would be like to, y’know, be bitten by one. Just, like, scientific curiosity.”
Another moment passes, and William can practically hear the cogs turning in Vyncent’s brain.
“How do you know I won’t turn you?”
“You need to both exchange blood. That’s easy, I just won’t drink your blood.” Or they could both end up as vampires, drinking blood together… no, William doesn’t need to open that can of worms right now.
“Okay. Cool.”
Vyncent moves from his seated position, going to his dresser and grabbing a hair tie. They make eye contact in the mirror as Vyncent pulls his hair back, and William’s heart begins to race. Vyncent uses his teeth to pull the hair tie off of his wrist, and yeah, his fangs look different than before–not that William thought about them that much–but it’s not too different from daydreams and fantasies William contemplates far too often. There’s something about Vyncent’s hands, his wrists, his mouth and hair and teeth and fuck, William is staring again but Vyncent’s arms just look so good in that shirt.
“Could you stand?” Vyncent asks. “I think it’ll be easier to get to your neck that way. Otherwise I’ll have to, like, sit in your lap, and I think I’d be too tall to reach down easily like that.”
William just barely catches himself before he was about to attempt to persuade Vyncent that it would be just fine and normal bro things to sit in his lap, or suggest he sit in Vyncent’s lap instead. That would be just a step too far, even for him. Instead, William stands, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans only semi-successfully.
“So, how do you wanna do this?” William asks.
“Uh, I’ll just-” Vyncent takes a few steps closer to William, and they’re suddenly face-to-face, barely half a foot apart, alone in Vyncent’s bedroom. “Like this.”
“Do I need to, uh, do anything?”
“I don’t think so. Just, uh, tilt your head?”
Oh, fuck, William is weak in the knees and he still has all his blood. He pushes his hair behind his ears, and tilts his head to the right, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt to expose as much skin as possible. A sudden rush of apprehension washes over him, heart pounding, and skin buzzing where Vyncent rests his hand on William’s shoulder.
“You could just bite my wrist, if that’s easier?” William murmurs, because Vyncent is so fucking close and he doesn’t need to speak any louder.
“I think… I think I’d like it better this way. If that’s okay?”
“Yeah,” William says weakly, “Fine with me.”
Vyncent takes his other hand and places it on the right side of William’s neck, opposite where he’s about to bite. He stays there, still, for a moment, just staring at William’s neck. William doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he leaves them dangling at his sides because Vyncent is being weird and he isn’t sure how far is too far with this whole homoerotic-best-friends thing.
“You sure it’s okay?” Vyncent checks again.
“Yeah,” William repeats. He’s scared if he tried to say anything else, he’d start begging like a dog at the dinner table.
Slowly, so slowly, but also too fast for William to process, Vyncent moves his mouth towards William’s neck. It’s only in the periphery of his vision that William can see his face, unguarded and wanting.
First, William feels Vyncent’s breath on his neck. Why is he breathing? Why are they both breathless when neither of them need oxygen?
Second, Vyncent’s grip on William’s shoulder and neck become firm, holding him in place. Why are his hands so shaky? Why does William feel it, too, like they’re operating on resonant frequencies?
Third, there’s a brush of lips on William’s neck, and he bites his lip to stop himself from making a sound. Why did Vyncent do that? Why did he linger?
Finally, fangs pierce William’s skin, sharp and stinging, yet oddly pleasant. A rush of adrenaline goes through William’s system, burning through his veins and arteries, down to the capillaries at the tips of his fingers and toes. Vyncent’s tongue brushes the skin of William’s neck as he tentatively begins to drink, and William has to grab Vyncent’s waist for support.
They’re already close enough, but Vyncent leans into the touch, so they’re pressed together down the length of their bodies. William sways on his feet, clinging to Vyncent now, hoping he’s not quite strong enough to leave a bruise. Against all odds, they manage to stay upright, even when Vyncent makes a small sound against William’s neck and it makes his knees buckle.
After a few moments–or years–Vyncent pulls away from William’s neck, but doesn’t take a step back, or move his hands.
“Vyncent-” William gasps, torn between looking at Vyncent’s blown pupils and the tiny bit of William’s blood on his lower lip.
“You taste like shit,” Vyncent cuts him off.
William can only let his jaw drop in shock at the comment, speechless. His blood is still on Vyncent’s mouth.
“Like, maybe that’s just how all blood tastes,” Vyncent continues, voice far too soft for his (honestly? kinda rude) words. “But that was awful.”
“Dude, what?”
“In all the movies they made it look so tasty. But I really didn’t like that. Not the- uh- you were great. Awesome work. I just think you need to get your blood checked.”
“I don’t believe you!”
“Why not?”
William rolls his eyes. He looks back at Vyncent’s mouth, which, like before, has William’s blood on it. “No, I believe you think that. I meant it as, like, the audacity of it. Like, why would you say that when I literally just let you bite my neck?”
“Here.”
Vyncent takes his hand off William’s shoulder and swipes it across his neck, right where he had bitten. When he pulls it away, his fingers have William’s blood on them. Like his lower lip, on the right side, which William is still fucking looking at. He puts his hand in front of William’s mouth, just hovering there.
“Taste.”
“What.” William can’t even say it as a question because he feels so dizzy with the implication. Does it still count as an implication if it’s been overtly requested?
“Taste your blood. So you understand.”
William doesn’t particularly want to know what his blood tastes like, but he has always had an admiration for Vyncent's hands. Really, it’s an easy decision for him to open his mouth and lick the tips of Vyncent’s first two fingers. What’s less easy is not chasing after them as Vyncent draws his hand back, catching William’s lower lip on the way.
William is probably going to die again after this, and he's going to gay hell forever. Worth it.
Unfortunately, Vyncent was right. The taste of William’s own blood on his tongue is enough to make him wrinkle his nose in distaste. It’s almost metallic, but not quite. There’s some bitterness to it, but William doesn’t really have an idea of what blood is even meant to taste like. This might be normal. Their hands still haven’t moved. William’s blood is on Vyncent’s lips, red and inviting, and his fingers now, too. It sits in the grooves of Vyncent’s fingerprints, even as Vyncent uses the same hand he had put in William’s mouth to wipe the blood off of his own.
William lets go of the facade of having no ulterior motive. “You could check again? Even if you’re not hungry.”
Vyncent nods. “Yeah, and there’s blood on your neck I should probably clean up, too.”
“Besides, it was… I enjoyed it,” William admits.
“Want me to, um, check again? To see if you still enjoy it?”
“Please.”
More sure this time, Vyncent closes the distance to William’s neck. He wraps his free arm around William, pulling him in. His teeth pierce the skin in the same place, but it stings just the same, like salt in a wound but way more romantic. Is this romantic? Does Vyncent even like him like that?
William decides he doesn’t care when Vyncent sucks gently at his neck, as much of a kiss as it is a bite. He tightens his grip on Vyncent, making a small sound he hopes goes unheard. Whether he heard it or not, Vyncent lets his bottom teeth graze William’s skin as well, and William lets out an incredibly embarrassing gasp. Vyncent pulls back and for a second William thinks he’s given himself away and Vyncent isn’t actually reciprocating, not even a little, but then Vyncent licks William’s fucking neck and makes a contented sound and William thinks he might be in heaven. Or hell. Or both.
That’s probably what Vyncent meant when he mentioned cleaning up, but William was too busy panicking-slash-poorly-seducing to notice. Why would he even care about that now when Vyncent is licking up the side of his neck further than he logically needs to, teeth grazing just underneath his jaw?
“Vyncent-”
“Hm?” Vyncent doesn’t move away from William’s neck, instead resting his head there, breath brushing over William’s collarbone.
William doesn’t know how to say it, so he brings a hand to Vyncent’s chin, and pulls his face up, towards William’s. Vyncent goes easily, eyes dark and wide, blood on his lips, oh fuck, that’s William’s blood on his lips. Looking down at Vyncent’s lips, then back up, William parts his lips in question, but can’t seem to speak. Still, Vyncent seems to understand, and tilts his head slightly, nodding, moving his mouth closer to William’s.
There’s a moment of silence, and William wonders if Vyncent can hear his heart racing.
Just like William has always imagined, Vyncent kisses him first. His lips are sticky with William’s blood, and he makes a soft sound when William moves a hand to his hair, trying to take it out of its tie. Vyncent takes his hand off the side of William’s neck and uses it to help, his hair falling loose around him. Their lips separate for a moment, but William takes the chance to kiss Vyncent properly now, hands in his hair and head tilted back just a little because of Vyncent’s height. In response, Vyncent makes another sound of contentment, one hand coming up to William’s jaw and the other settling on his waist.
The taste of William’s blood isn’t good, but the fact it’s William’s literal own blood is making him feel a cocktail of emotions he didn’t know were possible until now. He wants more, so he licks Vyncent’s lower lip and tugs gently at his hair. Vyncent parts his lips, opening his mouth into the kiss, and William traces his fangs with his tongue. Predictably, Vyncent’s teeth are sharp, but William gasps anyway, and he feels Vyncent smile. William can’t tell if it’s the blood loss, or if Vyncent is just that good at kissing, but he’s feeling dizzier with every second that passes.
Vyncent moves his hand on William’s waist, slipping it under his shirt to stroke his skin, palm cold enough that William gasps again. That’s enough of a pause for Vyncent to take control and kiss William even harder, and he bites gently at William’s lower lip. The scrape of his teeth makes William whimper, his fingers curling into Vyncent’s hair in response. He can’t get enough of Vyncent; his mouth, his hands, the sounds he makes that William feels more than hears.
William pulls away; he doesn’t need the breath, but it’s overwhelming, and the taste of his own blood is making it a little worse. When he looks at Vyncent, he’s looking back at William with such reverence that it feels surreal, and William thinks he might just cry. Vyncent’s hair is a mess, and he’s so pretty that William feels ill.
“Hey,” William says, because what else is there to say?
“Hi.”
They’re still tangled up in each other, and William’s blood is all over Vyncent’s mouth, so it’s probably over his, too. He wonders what they look like, what kind of picture they’d make. Probably one from a really fucking cool indie emo magazine. Maybe with a My Chemical Romance feature.
“I think I need to brush my teeth,” Vyncent says.
“I think you need to clean your face,” William counters, and they’re them again.
It’s new, the way he’s wrapped up in Vyncent’s arms, but it’s comfortable. William, for once in his life, doesn’t want to push it any more. Doesn’t need to know more. This is enough.
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“So, is this because of the vampire thing?”
“The… me being into you? No, that’s been way longer.” Despite the current situation, William still blushes when he admits it.
Vyncent has the nerve to look confused at that. “No, I mean the kissing your best friend stuff.”
“Vyncent. That’s called being gay. It’s completely separate from being a vampire.” William takes a second to think. “Well, actually-”
“So am I gay or am I a vampire? I’m gonna be honest, Will, this is a lot to learn in one day.”
William doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he drags Vyncent in, and kisses him again. It might be his new favourite way of dealing with Vyncent’s constant state of making William equal levels of flustered and baffled. So for once in his (stupid, gay-ass) life, William sinks his teeth into this, and doesn’t mind if he bites off more than he can chew.