1. Chapter 1 (1/1)
here, have a slightly angsty one. those of you i've teased about my heart
eaker fic... this ain't it. vlad may be a little out of character.
disclaimer: young dracula? not mine.
he hadn't been warned that they were expecting a visitor. so when bertrand wandered into the throne room to find an unfamiliar coat thrown carelessly across the table, smelling distinctly of
eather, his first thought was for the chosen one's safety.
he sprinted up to vlad's room and stopped outside, listening. he could hear
eathing – ragged and uneven. the intruder had found his target, then. he opened the door noiselessly and slipped inside, careful not to make any sound that could alert an assailant to his presence. he didn't find what he'd expected to inside.
vlad was pinning the intruder down – bertrand was proud, for a second, and relieved – but, he noticed, the
eather was making no real effort to get away as vlad... kissed him. well, kissing was an understatement, really. bertrand stared down at them in shock as robin
anagh – he fit the description, besides which bertrand had done some research and found photos – moaned into vlad's mouth and an arm almost as pale as the young vampire's own pulled him even closer.
bertrand should leave, he knew he should. he couldn't possibly stand and watch this happen, and he dreaded to think what he would see if he did. but somehow he was finding it hard to move, to think... and then he made a dash for the door, realising too late that he was slamming it shut behind him. he sped down to the training room and tried to pretend he'd been viciously attacking the punch bag all along.
he noticed a small split forming along the seam of the bag, but he kept going until he heard vlad's voice behind him."everything alright, bertrand?" he turned to find that the chosen one at least had the grace to look guilty, much as he was clearly trying not to."fine. was there something you wanted?" he'd made it fairly obvious that there was something wrong – normally he would never
ush vlad off like that, especially since that memorable training session when vlad had first kissed him – but that was fine. they couldn't carry on like this. this was it, bertrand knew, and anything either of them said until they admitted it was over was just stalling.
vlad shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again, staring at the floor. then he took a deep – if redundant –
eath and looked up."were you just... did you come upstairs?""yes." he volunteered no more information."were you in my room?""...i didn't know you were expecting company. i thought the slayers... yes." vlad sighed, closing his eyes for a moment."how much do you hate me?" bertrand frowned."i couldn't hate you if i tried. but i am angry. you couldn't have just told me you wanted him instead?""i know, i should have, but it just happened and then i couldn't work out what to say, and the longer it went on the worse i felt about it and the less i wanted to have to tell you-""the longer it went on?" bertrand fixed him with a stern look and vlad winced."robin showed up two weeks ago. he's been staying in town.""and you've been-?" vlad grimaced again, nodding. "right. well. now you're free to go back to him."
he turned back to the punch bag, raising his stick, but paused as vlad spoke again."are we... can we still be, i mean, are we okay?""we will be. don't keep him waiting."he slammed the stick against the bag and the split seam surrendered, spilling stuffing all over the floor as vlad closed the door behind him.