Work Text:
"You might wanna cover your neck," Owen hums, pulling stark white hair away from his own thin, mottled throat. Head swimming, Legundo hardly hears a word the vampire says. His breath is short, long gasps taken between feverish bites of bread. "Don't let them see the bite, I guess, and you'll be fine."
Soft winds chill the doctor to the bone, a clear sign of anemia. Tugging at his smock, as if the collar would provide any sort of warmth and cover, goosebumps prickle across his skin. Anything else the vampire says is lost on Legundo, all his thoughts stalling on his body's response to such a… donation. All in the name of science, of trust. But with his slow moving thoughts, all he can think about is being cold.
A pattern Owen is quick to pick up on. Clearly the doctor isn't listening, distracted as he rubs clammy hands along his exposed arms. It will be a long, cold walk back to town. Perhaps he can find a cave, start a fire to keep warm until the hypovolemic shock-
Rough material caresses gristled flesh, and the doctor nearly leaps from his own skin. Clutching at the affronting material, his attempt to break free is only met with a dark, low chuckle. "Come now, you shared your blood, can't a guy share his jacket?"
Fight instinct fading, Legundo's brain catches up with the scene around him. Spirits, he feels like his body is made of ice, his mind of sludge. Still enough, Owen returns to wrapping the fabric across Legundo's shoulders. His cloak, or shawl or whatever the hell had been affixed around Owen's neck- he was a doctor, not a seamster. The material was worn, tattered and fraying at the edges, but despite being wrapped around a vampire for the last two hundred years, there's a warmth to it. Not physically, but rather the sensation, the memory of it. Like slipping into an old favorite sweater, or the embrace of a friendly stranger. The material is rough, chafing at the tender skin on Legundo's throat, but it swaddles his torso in thin, threadbare wool. A well loved piece, one that likely kept the lumberjack from hypothermia many a winter.
Now resting on Legundo's shoulders. Trapping his warmth, repelling the wind from exposed skin. Covering the bite on his neck. Once the material is steady upon Legundo's broad shoulders, Owen reappears before the doctor. He's not sure he'll get over the shocking white hair the young man has now, but he hides his reaction well. "Won't be needing it anymore, and I'd rather my new partner reach safety without freezing to death. Horrid way to go for a mortal."
"How… generous." Still, Legundo pulls the cloak closer. The scent of Owen catches his nose. He expected him to smell of death, like a rotting corpse, but found no whiff of such a stench. The metal tang of blood, sure, but also the smell of wet earth. That of a glass conservatory, leaves rotting to give life to new growth. And beneath that, the scent of fresh cut lumber, with a hint of a heady, warm smell. One he can't quite place, but reminds Legundo of warm winter nights by a fire, sipping on spiced drinks and buried beneath thick blankets.
A tapestry of Owen, and all his experiences. His laurels, now rested upon Legundo's shoulders. Hard to believe a vampire that massacred a whole town still bears a lighter weight than one broken soldier.
"Well, best we part ways, before anyone else stumbles upon us. Wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea." The vampire's words are sharpened like a threat, but Legundo finds his cheeks warming all the same. Just as Owen appeared, from the shade and shadows of the dark oaks, he disappears, like a breath caught upon the wind.
Leaving Legundo alone once more. And yet, the doctor does not feel abandoned. Not with the wool wrapped around him. One might even say it was a gift… not that Legundo would entertain such a notion. It was merely strategic, to keep him alive so the hungry beast could feed again.
A welcome offering, all the same, as Legundo staggers his way back to town. His mind still swam, feeling two paces behind his body, but goosebumps wane and the wind remains repulsed. So sapped of all energy, he can't think of much more than one foot in front of the other. Moving forward, towards home, towards the safety of the town walls. And mulling with futility over the sparse knowledge his interaction with Owen earned him, like bailing water out of a sinking boat.
Drifting across the worn paths, muddy and rambling, Legundo doesn't notice the gazes upon him. If he had the mind to, perhaps he would have thought to remove the cloak, tuck it away under his arm or stashed to retrieve in the unspoken night. Instead, it flies like a banner, a declaration more brash and brazen than any twin marks.
One particular gaze, keen green muted by a dull red, follows the doctor to his home, footsteps silent but rage loud. They're inside before he closes the door, stalking as natural to her as farming.
"What did you do." It wasn't a question, but a demand. Legundo wasn't startled, but he sure isn't quick to his response either. Rather than answering Cleo, he floats to aged cabinets, as disheveled as him. Perusing the tonics in his collection, Legundo plucks a bottle with shaking hands. Before he can uncork the stopper, however, vampiric strength forces him to turn around. "Doctor."
"Merely followed medical curiosity." Legundo hums, downing the contents of the bottle like it were mead.
"And did that 'medical curiosity' include letting Owen turn you?" She yanks the worn wool away, revealing aching bite marks to the cold interior. Rage burns bright in Cleo's eyes, lips twisting into a scowl while their breath remains forcefully metered.
"I'm still human." Legundo pulls the fabric free from her ice cold grip, heart racing upon hearing the sound of weak wool tearing. Rather than pull the material closer to stave off the chill or hide the shame, he brings his monocle close to the cloak, inspecting the damage. "I kept Owen from doing any more harm."
"By letting him feed off of you?!" She grows more frustrated with every second.
"I'd rather Owen take just enough from me than too much from anyone else in this town. You may not see it that way, but I did what needed to be done."
"You did what you pleased, what you felt was right. Prostrating yourself to reckon with your sins does nothing but drag all of us lower." Claws press against Legundo's chest, the only sound in the shack his human, beating heart.
His gaze, cold as ice, meets the flame in Cleo's. He does not look away. It was stupid. It was dangerous. It was risky. But it was worth it, to earn Owen's trust.
It was worth it, to be close to him. Legundo can still feel the press of the vampire's lips against his skin, the rigid embrace of lanky limbs wrapping around him from behind. The pulsing of blood across cold lips. For just a moment, the two monsters hiding in the forest shared a heartbeat. For just a moment, Legundo and Owen were not alone.
"And what will you tell the others then, hmm?" Cleo steps back, but it's far from a retreat. If anything, it was just as much a taunt, an incrimination as their words. "After all, the whole damn town saw you wander back in wearing Owen's cloak."
"You think they know it's his?" A stupid question, one she doesn't have to answer for him to know the truth. Everyone knows. Everyone saw. Despite it's drab, dirty appearance, there was no mistaking the wrap. Owen clung to it like a talisman his first few days, face burying within the material to mumble something under his breath or avoid eye contact. No, there was no denying it. "Well, no turning back now I guess."
"So what, you're just gonna tell them you let a vampire feed of you?"
"Well, I don't think he'd go with my story of it just being lost in the woods, like I was." Legundo looks out the window, across the remains of Oakhurst. Until this whole 'us versus them' mentality, they were on the path to rebuilding what was lost. For a brief time, vampires and humans did coexist. Even if it was just Scott and Owen setting the trap, it was possible. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if they thought I turned, like you did."
Cleo's face did not agree. Nor did her words. "You'd lie to your fellow man? I thought better of you, doc."
"As if we all haven't lied within the walls of Oakhurst- you included." Feeling brave, the doctor steps closer to Cleo. This time, the vampire was the one to retreat. "But the others trust me. If I say I was turned, but I'm still here to help… maybe you and Apo won't be ostracized like the others. Then, maybe we won't lose any more friends, simply on the basis of what they are."
It was rare to win an argument with Cleo. They craft their words as sharp as a stake, and bides her time for the perfect moment to strike. And perhaps, this wasn't a victory. Just an ambush, a tactical retreat. Staying their blade to strike when it will kill.
"Well, I think we both know how well lies go here," She hisses, but the rage has left their gaze, a relief Legundo welcomes. Her smile however, coy and wicked, was not. "I promise not to tell the others, but only if you promise to watch your back around Owen."
"Feels very one-sided, seeing as I already do." But its a deal all the same, one he's happy to take. At least this one doesn't require anymore of his blood.
A dark chuckle echoes from Cleo's throat, bouncing against the wooden frame of the shack, as if the shadows themselves were laughing alongside them. "More-so now, doctor. He's had a taste of you. And vampires can be quite possessive of their… desires."
Before Legundo can question what she means, before either of them can take stock in the doctor's response, Cleo makes their exit out his door. The singe of sunburned skin follows after, twisting with the scent of Owen's cloak. He felt he no longer needed it, after the warmth that has risen from Cleo's words. Foolish deals and foolish ideas Legundo has found himself ensnared in, but he has no choice now. No turning back- he couldn't leave even if he wanted to.
Lightheadedness takes hold of Legundo, overwhelming even the flutter of his heart, bringing the doctor to collapse upon his bed, arms curled under the warm wool cloak. he rests, imagining strong arms wrapped around him once more, lips caressing his skin not for a meal or a deal, but for companionship.
Legundo is satisfied with what he's lost, and what he's gained in return. A vampire lost his cloak, but showed his humanity. A human donated his blood, but found common ground.
He only hopes it will be enough. That he will be enough.