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"Ballroom!" Owen said excitedly. "Okay, I'm going to make a blood fountain right here..." he said, placing some stone down for the base.
"Pig blood," Pyro confirmed, looking towards Shelby.
"Yeah, pig blood," she nodded.
"Well, unless we could get the real stuff..." Owen said, "And then it's a party party."
Shelby bit her lip, "...You don't, like, do that recreationally, right?"
"Uh..." Owen stopped to think, "I heard vampires do, I never got the chance to."
That interaction had lived in Scott's head for the past couple of days.
He was just... well, shocked. Shocked that Owen could've lived for 200 years and never even experienced a proper vampire ball!
Sure, he vaguely knew the story of Owen and how he slept for 200 years immediately after being turned and massacring Oakhurst, but it never really clicked that Owen didn't experience some of the things that he did.
Oh, and going to balls was just Scott's favorite! There was no way he was going to let Owen miss out.
So one night, when the coven was decidedly not busy, he made it his mission to fix that.
Owen sat at the long meeting table, lying back with his feet crossed on top of it. The only light was the subtle shine of the desecrated beacon, a dark red tone that reflected off the bottle of blood that he swished around. The red shined onto him, showing the outline of his beautiful face with a bored expression.
Owen's deep red eyes--almost reminiscent of the dark brown they once were--looked up to Scott's. "Hey."
"Oh, hi, Owen!" Scott said, sitting in the chair across from him and resting his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "You seem bored."
"Out of my mind," Owen answered, moving his feet from on top of the table to the ground out of courtesy.
The corners of Scott's mouth turned upwards into a smirk. "I can fix that."
Owen raised an eyebrow as Scott got up from his chair. "What do you mean--" he barely got out before Scott pulled him up by the arm, making him drop his bottle. "My drink--!"
"That doesn't matter!" Scott said, pulling him in the direction of the ballroom and turning around to the man that had his long, beige, hair all down for once, "This is more fun."
"And what could possibly be more fun than enjoying a meal?" Owen questioned, resistant to whatever plan Scott seemed to have.
Scott merely smiled, showing fangs, dragging the other man to the ballroom.
The faint moonlight through windows left the room almost entirely pitch-black. But obviously Scott and Owen could see it clearer than that.
And the dark was just so beautiful. Scott felt oddly at peace looking into the dim room.
It just so happened to remind him of someone else.
Owen, beautiful in the way a softly lit darkness was. In the cold embrace of shadows, and in the sense of utter peace the dark gave--especially to one of his own nature.
Ever since he'd met Owen, he'd found himself taking a liking to him. Interesting and adorable, almost like a pet.
He adjusted his grip to hold Owen's hand, and Owen did a quick glance down at their hands before coughing. "So, why are we here?"
Scott smiled. "I can knock out two birds with one stone for this one," he thought. "You'll see!" he said, then pulled Owen towards the center of the ballroom.
"Scott..." Owen scowled, but didn't let go.
Scott giggled, amused at Owen's hypocritical frustration, and stopped at the dance floor. "So you've never been to a vampire ball?" he asked as Owen let go of his hand.
Owen scoffed. "I haven't been to any ball."
"Any?!" Scott said, astonished. "You haven't been to a ball?!"
"Well..." Owen said, touching his scarred-over hand, "The townspeople didn't necessarily find me... safe to be around, what with my ailment."
"Do you even know how to dance?!" Scott asked.
"...No?" Owen said, as if it was obvious.
Scott's expression changed from one of surprise to a smirk as he decided this would be well easy. "Well, then," he said, taking Owen's hand and bowing slightly to kiss it, "Could I have this dance?"
Owen's face barely changed, besides a quick upturn of the corner of his mouth and the slightest bit of red that tinted his cheeks--something only someone old as Scott could notice. "I have nothing better to do," he said, but Scott also knew he wasn't entirely bored by the proposal.
"Okay," Scott said with a smile, moving to stand. He put his left hand on Owen's waist and lifted their hands to be next to their faces.
The other man glanced at the hand on his waist, blinking a few times, before looking back up. "Um..."
"Rest your other hand on my shoulder," Scott confirmed, and Owen hesitated before reluctantly obliging. "Now, there are multiple ways to properly dance in a ballroom, but this is the most simple," Scott smirked, knowing what he was doing, "A slow dance."
Owen nodded hesitantly, as if suspicious of his intentions.
"Here's what you're gonna do," Scott said. "Step back with your left foot, then with your right, then turn..."
Owen looked down at his feet the whole time, nervously chewing on his lip while getting his shoes stepped on by the much more advanced man. Then, he turned the wrong way, causing the two to crash into each other before Owen pulled his hands away and gave up.
"That's it! I can't do this!" He said, lifting his hands to the air for drama and then putting them into fists at his side and starting to walk away.
Scott grasped his wrist. "You only tried for, like, two seconds."
"And I'm already terrible."
"Yeah, but you'll get better with time. And we, for one, have a lot of it," Scott said, then pulled Owen back into the position to dance. "Why waste it being so negative?"
Owen initially looked displeased, but his expression softened. "Fine. We can try again."
"Of course. I'll go much slower this time," Scott said, smirking.
So Owen laid his hand on Scott's shoulder yet again, and Scott slowly called out directions.
"Step back with your left foot... Then step back with your right... Don't loose your balance! And then turn right just a little..." Scott instructed. "And then do the opposite: back right, back left, turn left."
"Am I doing alright?" Owen asked, expression unsure as he looked between Scott and his feet.
"Of course, love," Scott said, and Owen blinked a few times before a soft red hue appeared on his face. Scott smiled, taking note of it.
"And then..." Scott said, intentionally getting closer to Owen, "...Do it again," he said softly, eyes locked on him.
Owen blinked and quickly looked back at his feet, focusing immensely on each move, his steps robotic.
"The trick is to get into a flow," Scott said. "Predict my movements, and adjust." He frowned, "And look at me, not your feet."
Owen made a sound of approval before looking back up to Scott with a slightly surprised expression, assumedly startled by how close Scott had gotten; they were practically pressed up against each other.
Scott smirked. "I agree. I am just that great to look at."
Owen rolled his eyes, but continued on with the dance anyways, seeming like he had to chew his own hand off trying not to look back down.
"Wow, you're quite a natural. And you never would've known if I'd let you just give up there!" Scott said, proudly.
Owen scoffed, "I am not a natural."
Scott frowned. "You're such a negative person! It's such a waste of time."
"I don't want a time. I don't care about wasting it," Owen replied blankly.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "You don't? Why would you choose to become a vampire, then?"
Owen immediately answered, "I thought he'd live."
Scott nodded, connecting pieces of Owen's past together in his head. "Ah. That's why you massacred the town."
"...Yeah," Owen said, his expression far away, "They burned him."
"Burned?" Scott sucked a breath in that he didn't need, "That's a tough one," he said, dragging out the first word.
"...Yeah," Owen said quietly, almost a whisper.
"Well," Scott said louder, jolting Owen back to life. "That's the past. You've got hundreds of years to look forward to, now."
Owen shook his head. "But it'll never be with him."
"No," Scott confirmed, "But there's no point in trying to fix something that's already lost. Much better to focus on something..." Scott looked him up and down, "Right in front of you."
Owen seemed to redden under his gaze, but scoffed. "Please. You really think I'd be into you?"
"I think you are, sweetie," Scott quickly replied, and giggled, "Your cross attitude doesn't fool me."
"What about your little boy-toy?" Owen asked accusingly.
Scott raised an eyebrow. Who did he mean? "Oh, that's right," he remembered. "You mean Pyro," he said, then shrugged, "I hardly remember he exists sometimes."
"Damn. Wouldn't want to be him," Owen remarked.
Scott smiled, "You aren't, love."
The dance slowed, Scott taking his hand from Owen's to rest on his cheek, but keeping the other firmly on his waist.
Owen looked startled, blinking a few times and stumbling the dance a bit. He looked to his feet, which Scott interpreted as getting looked up and down.
"Like what you see?" Scott said, looking from Owen's eyes to his lips.
Owen reddened, but seemed to fight himself to keep his composure and not stumble the slow dance as Scott pulled himself closer to Owen. He seemed to gravitate towards the taller man as if he was a magnet, Owen's free hand bringing itself to Scott's waist.
There were only a few inches between their lips, and yet Owen still muttered, "I am not going to kiss you."
"I think you are, pretty boy," Scott whispered back.
Scott knew Owen's face heated up, but the other man quietly scoffed anyways, "As if."
Then, almost as if on queue, Owen closed the gap between their lips, stilling the dance, and seemed to kiss as if he was personally angry at him for being attractive.
And Scott, well... Would never admit it outright, but he did, in fact, find Owen quite beautiful, so he was just as enthusiastic. He pulled Owen closer and closer to him with his hand oh his waist, and Owen, surprisingly, leaned into it.
Oh, and the two definitely made use of not needing to breathe, their lips on each other's without parting for what was probably longer than humanly possible.
But eventually, Scott parted, letting out a breathe he was sure he didn't need nor breathe, noticing just how hot his cheeks felt.
Owen snickered. "That's all it takes to break your composure? And here I thought you were some unfeeling sadist."
"Your composure was broken a long time ago, might I remind you," Scott said. Owen's face hardened with annoyance, and Scott cocked his head, smirking, "You want to kiss me again."
Owen growled, "You little--" he said, then pulled Scott forward by the popped collar on his cape. "You prick, I--" he tried to continue, but was at a loss for words.
Scott smiled widely at his frustration, deciding to egg him on just for fun, "I bet you want to make out with me, and place your hands all over me, and I bet you'd even let me--" Owen kissed him, just to shut him up.
While Scott would've liked to finish his sentence, this was okay, too. He hadn't kissed anyone in, what, 600 years, so it was definitely welcome, even the second time.
But each time Scott tried to pull away to say something or tease, Owen would catch his lips onto Scott's yet again. But this was fine with Scott, who found himself more attracted to him by the second.
But Owen pulled away eventually. "Will you shut up, now?"
"Hm..." Scott smirked, regaining his composure despite being entirely muddled with his attraction to Owen, "Maybe if you admit you're attracted to me."
"Your ego doesn't need more boosting."
"And kissing me twice didn't boost my ego?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"Only if you admit you're into me."
"Fine!" Owen said, balling his fists, "You're hot! You're really hot! Now shut the hell up!"
Scott grinned, beaming, but didn't say anything.
"I can practically still hear the words coming out of your mouth," Owen rolled his eyes.
Scott eyed Owen, thinking of an idea. If he could hit Owen enough in the feels, he'd become partial to Scott. And he remembered quite clearly the way Owen touched his scarred hands in reference to the way he'd never been taught to dance.
So he smiled, taking Owen's hand and bringing it to his face, softly kissing the textured, scarred, skin over and over while looking into Owen's eyes.
Owen had a look of disbelief the entire time, not believing Scott to be genuine. And while one could say he was not because he had a crafted plan to make Owen like him, the truth was...
Well, he did like the man quite a bit; he found Owen's hands to be just as beautiful as him.
Owen let out a huff. "You can't charm me, Scott. I know you don't mean anything you say."
"I'm not saying anything," Scott murmured softly against his skin.
"...Right," Owen said, watching as Scott held his hand delicately.
Scott pulled away from his hand--but still held it--and lightly kissed Owen, who seemed oddly more receptive to his affection. Clearly his plan was working.
"...Fine, I won't make you be quiet forever," Owen said.
Scott's small, affectionate, smile turned to one that showed fangs. "Thanks, dear. I guess I teased you too much, hm?" he said, caressing Owen's cheek, "So sorry, you're just so pretty when you're all angry and flustered."
Owen scoffed in disbelief, "And when I'm not?" he asked accusingly.
"Haven't seen it, but I'd assume you're just as pretty when you're not up on your high horse," Scott said. "Thinking you're so much better than me. You murdered a whole town, too, y'know!" Scott intentionally decided not to mention he murdered multiple towns.
"Well, at least I don't manipulate people."
"I'm not manipulating you."
"Yes, you are."
"Only as much as you're manipulating me."
"I'm not--" Owen let out an exasperated breath, "manipulating you!"
"Exactly," Scott beamed.
Owen groaned. "You are so annoying."
"I've learned that means you like me," Scott said, tilting his head with a smirk.
Owen scoffed, but said nothing.
Taking note of how Owen responded to him kissing his hand, Scott leaned on Owen, laying his head on his shoulder, and silently took his hand, tracing the divots and bumps of his scars.
Scott smiled. "Would you like to dance again, love?" he said, a slightly more hushed tone than he commonly projected.
"...Why do you keep touching my hands?" Owen asked with a surprisingly unirritated tone.
"They're unique," Scott simply answered.
Owen watched Scott softly hold his hand with an analyzing gaze; he could only assume Owen was trying to find some hidden meaning behind all his actions tonight.
"...Louis was the only other one willing to touch my hands," Owen admitted.
"Louis?"
"My sire."
"Ah." Scott continued fiddling with Owen's hand, "Do I remind you of him?"
Owen laughed. "Never. Louis was a kind man; he'd never hurt a soul. Not even the ones that killed him."
"Seems your tastes have changed," Scott said casually, taking his weight off Owen.
Owen laughed again, "I don't like you."
"Mhm." Scott pulled Owen into the position to dance, "...And start."
It really didn't take long for them to get into a rhythm this time, and Scott noticed his own cheeks starting to heat up at Owen's gaze.
Which was odd for him.
Because while, yes, he was attracted to Owen, he never found himself the type to fold so easily.
But he guessed he could understand it, with how beautiful Owen looked with the moonlight reflected upon his face. That odd, slightly dreamy-like look he had in his eyes; a mix of hate and utter magnetism to Scott.
"...Y'know, I think Louis did teach me to dance at some point," Owen said. "In the city hall, after he'd heard I'd never learned... It could've been right here, actually."
"Seems I'm not too different from this 'Louis' character," Scott said all too innocently.
Owen stopped dancing.
"Don't ever compare yourself to him."
Scott was stood in place, stunned for the first time in at least a few hundred years.
Owen didn't even look at Scott, instead opting for the deeply interesting red carpet. "I can play your stupid charm game, Scott, but don't you ever compare him to your vile existence."
Scott was mildly irritated at the insult--or, rather, slightly disheartened--but he brushed it off anyways. Stuff like that didn't get to him anymore.
It did sting a bit, though.
But all that mattered to Scott was getting what he wanted. And right now he wanted Owen.
So Scott grabbed his hand, "Then we'll not talk about him, darling. It's alright."
Owen looked down at his hand held in Scott's and back up at him. "You're a pathological liar, Scott," he said less irritatedly. "Someone like you, specifically you--who calls the slightest unregal thing 'disgusting'--does not like my hands."
"If I was lying, Owen, you wouldn't be able to tell," Scott said. "Your hands are..." he smiled, bringing the hand to his face and shrugging, "Pretty."
Owen scoffed, "'Pretty',' he mumbled imitatively.
"If you so believe it's a lie, why not indulge yourself in it?" Scott said. "You clearly need some delusion in your life, with how... your emotional state tends to come off."
"...Right. And that will end well for me," Owen said sarcastically, yet he still hadn't pulled his hand away or even asked Scott to let go.
"Well, then, my love," Scott said, then softy kissed Owen's hand, "Indulge me. For just tonight."
Owen didn't say anything, but blushed at the gesture and the intimacy of it.
"Just for tonight," Scott continued his monologue, "Will you indulge me in what I want?"
"What do you want?" Owen finally said, taking the bait.
"You."
Scott casually blinked once as a thick silence spread between them. "A dance, is all. Maybe another kiss or two."
Owen bit his lip, thinking, before muttering to himself, "I'm not sure what harm it could be."
Scott smiled. "Good choice." He then pulled Owen's hand up to dance, moving his own to Owen's waist, "Then let's dance."
Owen smiled for what felt like the first time that night. "Let's."