historically inaccurate but well-meaning t-rex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scriveyner) wrote2012-08-25 09:38 am
scriveyner) wrote2012-08-25 09:38 am
Entry tags:
- au: nightbreed,
- character: edward elric,
- character: edward elric (werewolf),
- character: rian martin,
- character: rian martin (vampire),
- character: roy mustang,
- character: roy mustang (vampire),
- character: russell tringham,
- genre: angst,
- pairing: roy/ed,
- pairing: roy/rian,
- pairing: russell/ed,
- series: fullmetal alchemist,
- wc: under 10000
Fullmetal Alchemist (Nightbreed) - Awakening [Roy/Ed] [Roy/Rian] [Russell/Ed]
Title: Awakening
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed, Roy/Rian, Russell/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 5548
Summary: It's been a year, and things really aren't the same as they were before. Roy worries about Rian, and Edward is confronted with his past.
Roy Mustang woke to an empty bed.
This had become a common occurrence. He yawned, tongue probing gently at those too-sharp teeth and sat up on one arm. Even in the absolute darkness of the small bedroom, where there was blackout curtains installed to keep the outside world away, he could sense the night. The last vestiges of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon. It called to him, the night.
He had spent too many years trying to avoid the darkness, and the creature that he had become. Roy sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Edward had left first as he often did, early on during daylight, sliding out of the bed and pressing a kiss to Roy's temple. He had left the apartment fully dressed; he was going to find work and that required two legs instead of four. He would be back soon.
Rian had been nestled under Roy's arm, sandwiched between the two of them when they slept. Roy inhaled again, trying to get a sense of where his kin had gone. His scent was old, like Edward's – he had left early. Rian had more immunity to the daylight than Roy did, and would often get up in the evening, before dusk. He was still here, and nearby – but not in the apartment itself. Roy opened his eyes to the darkness.
It had been a rough few months. Things were starting to settle into a routine and he was glad for it. Edward hated routine, he knew, and it was only a matter of time before Edward would do something to challenge the status quo, but now Roy and Rian both would be fully equipped to deal with whatever shit Edward drug back to their apartment to make life interesting again.
Roy found a clean shirt somewhere and pulled it on. Rian had not moved, and Roy could sense him still. He was in no danger, there was no warning that he should be on his guard. It seemed like Rian was on the roof.
He slid open the patio door and gracefully stepped onto the balcony. They were not the top apartment in the building, but it was dark and no one was likely to see him. Roy hopped up onto the railing, and with terrifying ease he leapt, catching the bottom of the overhanging balcony with both hands and casually flipping himself up to land on the railing of the third floor balcony. Two additional, similar jumps, performed with barely a pause to see if anyone observed him, and Roy flipped up onto the roof.
The roof was the best vantage point in this neighborhood of smaller apartment buildings. Roy crouched on the lip of the roof and looked down the street, lit with brake lights and street lamps, before looking over. Rian was sitting on the edge of the building, bare feet dangling above the five-story drop without a single batted eyelash.
Roy inhaled deeply; the night air was full of relevant information. Rian did not glance noticeably in his direction, but Roy knew that Rian felt his presence just as keenly as Roy felt Rian's own. It was a benefit – and a handicap – of the bond a sire and their kin felt. Roy walked along the edge of the roof until he seated himself next to Rian, and looked back out across the veritable sea of buildings.
Rian looked particularly young out here, vulnerable and alone. Roy felt the urge to sling his arm over Rian's shoulder but did not succumb to it. It was not wise to touch a vampire without their permission, as Roy knew all too well. Rian was still newly turned, and sensitive.
Roy glanced at him. Rian had been so young to die; Roy could not bear it. So instead, he ultimately cursed Rian with this existence, alive and yet not, bound to immortality found in the lifeblood of others.
If Rian hated him for what he had done, he masked it extraordinarily well. He did brood, a lot – which Roy could not decide if it was a teenager thing or a vampire thing – but the roof had become his domain for that specific purpose.
Roy cocked his head but did not look back to Rian. “Are you hungry?” he asked. It was a silly question.
Vampires were always hungry.
Rian lifted his head; his shaggy dark hair was longer than Roy's own was. It fell into his eyes and around his face, caught by the wind. “I want to hunt,” he said. His voice was ragged and hoarse, like he had been screaming.
Roy nodded his head; the scent of prey was everywhere, almost overwhelming in this city. So many people. So much blood. “Yes,” he said, feeling the beast within him rising. “Let's hunt.”
#
Edward Elric returned home to an empty apartment.
It did not used to be this way. He flipped the light on in the den, only to illuminate an empty couch and a dark television. He knew without looking that he was alone; the scents of Roy and Rian were old and faded. They had been gone a while.
Edward heeled off his boots, kicking them against the door and walking across the living room, headed for the kitchen. He tried not to let it bother him, he tried not to let the changes in their life affect him, but it was hard to pretend as if everything was fine. Everything was not fine. It would probably never be “fine” again.
He lived in constant fear that one day he would come home and that Roy and Rian would be gone like this – but that they would never return. Edward would never have imagined Roy to be the type to abandon, but now Roy had another lover; a vampire as well, someone who understood him intimately in a way that Edward could not. Some days Edward felt like it was just a matter of time.
There was little in the refrigerator but bags of blood and half a six-pack of beer. They needed some groceries, but he was the only one who lived here that got their sustenance from actual foodstuffs. Edward retrieved a bottle of beer and let the door close with a small “thud.”
Edward pushed aside his emotions about what could happen, and focused instead on what had. He had woken up with Roy's arm slung over his side, wrist resting on his ribs, as he had to reach across another body to touch Edward. Even in his sleep, he still sought to touch Edward.
It was hard trying to find work in the city. If he looked hard enough there were plenty of deaths to investigate, creatures that slid off the path of decency and spiraled into the darkness to hunt … any number of things. However, bounties on the Breeds were at an all-time low, and even Winry did not have anything for him currently. Her component shelf was even fully stocked and did not need any of his special supply runs. There was, quite literally, no work for a wolf.
So instead, he had spent a few hours in the back room of a local dive, cleaning house. He had come out of the poker game a few thousand richer, and then had to outrun some pissed gamblers who did not like some fresh-faced rookie turning up and cleaning out their wallets. It would have been easier to turn on them, to flash an impossible mouthful of teeth and watch them run screaming into the night, but Breeds did not work that way. You did not reveal yourself unless threatened. That was just the way it was.
He was restless. This new reality for all three of them left Edward feeling the third wheel to almost everything that occurred. He had already tried to leave once and Rian had stopped him, angry as hell that Edward would just walk out on the man that he professed to love. The problem was Edward did love Roy. It was just that things were different, now.
Edward had always been a migrant. A nomad. He did not settle; he just kept moving. Yet, here – here he had chosen to stay, here with Roy. All because Roy was searching for some clue to his past and to whom he really was. Now Roy had Rian, and the pair of them was off doing vampire things together and Edward was sitting alone in a too-bright apartment, drinking beer and thinking bitterly about how his world had changed.
The knock at the door surprised him. Usually he sensed when people were lingering outside the front door, but he had been absorbed in his beer and self-pity. Still carrying the glass bottle in one hand Edward opened the door without checking the peephole first.
That was his first mistake.
Russell Tringham stood outside the door, arms crossed. He glanced at the beer in Edward's hand, and then back to his face just as quickly. “I thought I smelled booze,” Russell said, and while there was no judgment in his words, it was present in his tone.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Edward said, leaning against the doorframe and staring at the former detective. “I thought I told you to get the hell out of town two years ago.”
He looked exceedingly different. If his scent had not stayed, the same Edward would not have been certain it was the same man. Two years ago, when Edward had been bled-out and weak he was still strong enough to cow Russell. Russell was a half-breed, a mutt born weak and unable to transform. He could not go toe to toe with a full-blood wolf.
Russell's face was lined; he was older and more certain of himself. His blond hair had gotten long, not quite as long as the way Edward wore his but enough that he could clip it back away from his face. He did not look like a cop anymore. “You know how well I like listening,” Russell snorted, and there was the old belligerence. The anger used to snap between them like a living thing, and it was so comfortable that Edward welcomed it.
Russell peeled off the gloves he was wearing and produced an envelope from the inside of his snug biker's jacket. “I'm back because you need to see this.”
“What is it?” Edward only took the letter from Russell when he freely offered it.
“A declaration of war,” Russell said. “The clans are uniting, all except for the large one in the South. If they don't agree to be absorbed, and all-out war is threatened.”
Edward opened the letter, and after scanning the top three lines, he stepped aside, wordlessly allowing Russell past him and closing the door securely behind him.
“War,” Edward echoed, still skimming the letter. “The tribes are ridiculous, and I was shunned. Why are you telling me-?”
Russell cut Edward's words off with haste as he pinned Edward back against the front door, and kissed him. Edward struggled against Russell, the mutt had always been bigger than he was, and he had more meat on him so that Edward had difficulty trying to leverage against him. After a few long moments Edward surrendered to the kiss, to the long-missed taste and texture of another wolf until finally they parted, panting.
“I'm telling you,” Russell said, his face still far too close to Edward's own. “Because despite your insane attachment to vampires, I still love you.”
Edward put both his hands on Russell's chest and the other wolf allowed Edward to push him away. He was a wolf now, not just a mutt. Winry's potion, recompense for all that Russell had done to save Edward's life, had done its job and unlocked the beast within Russell. He wore the change in his lack of trepidation with Edward. He was not afraid any longer – they were equals now.
Edward swiped his hand over his mouth and looked away, to the beer bottle where it had overturned on the floor when he dropped it. “Idiot,” Edward said softly, ignoring the rising feeling in his chest. “They won't want me.”
“Wolves are being conscripted, Ed. Shanghaied. You are strong, especially for a mutt. They're going to want you most of all.” Russell's blue eyes were trained intently on Edward's. “You must be careful. Please.”
Suddenly, things that had been going on under the surface for months now made sense. The call to gather and to hunt had not been going out with the same frequency, and lately had stopped altogether. Edward wiped his mouth again, as if the taste of Russell lingered. “They can't go to war,” he said. “It would mean ruination for too many of the smaller clans.”
“I look forward to you explaining that to the Elders,” Russell said dryly.
“It could mean exposure,” Edward said. His back was still flattened against the door and Russell was entirely too close. His scent was overwhelming Edward, and if he moved – Edward was not entirely sure what would happen. Russell needed to leave, now – before he did something he would regret. “They won't risk it.”
Russell could not disguise his snort and Edward burned at the arrogance. Russell had not grown up with the wolf tribes, anything that he had learned in the past two years did not measure up to a lifetime of indoctrination and hatred that Edward had cultivated. As if reading his mind, Russell turned away. “You've been gone too long,” he said. “Things are different. The old man is dead.”
Edward's heart leapt into his throat. He remembered the old wolf, a wizened ancient creature that was bent almost double with the weight of his age in his human form. He had protected the tribe for as long as Edward could remember. He had even ordered the protection of two young half-breed cubs found lost and alone after their mother had died. “He's … dead?”
“Ousted. Things are very different now.” Russell was pulling his gloves back on, clearly ready to leave. “A lot of them – a lot of the younger wolves have left the tribe to form their own splinter groups in an act of defiance. A lot of them have been hunted down and branded. The new guy … doesn't like initiative.”
Edward could not concentrate on that. He shook his head violently; the old man could not be dead. “Who sits in his -?”
“Scar.”
Edward's head shot up. The outcast. The traitor. The one who did not wear his human form and who never spoke. Edward had fought him once before, in this very city. He had nearly died. “How-?”
“Things are different now. You need to keep your head down.” Russell finally looked at him. “There are a lot of us fighting him, fighting all of them, Ed. We could use your help, but I will not ask for it. I just came to warn you. Storms' coming.”
Edward was too stunned to fight or to accept the kiss a second time, and Russell casually moved him aside so that he could leave. The other wolf paused in the doorway and looked back at Edward. He did not say anything else. He did not have to.
Russell Tringham shut the door behind him.
#
Rian Martin crouched effortlessly on the railing of a fire escape and looked down three stories below. In the alley below them, a drug deal was getting ready to go down. He was watching, balanced perfectly, only for amusements' sake. They had already fed.
Roy did not like killing their prey. Once, Rian would have agreed. Once the creature he had become might have even horrified him, thriving on the lifeblood of others - but that part of him had already died. They never harmed innocents, but this city was full of dregs that society would never miss. Dregs like the scum below about to set some kids up with their first big deal.
Rian and Roy had already eaten, sharing a pimp who had been seconds away from shooting one of his prostitutes. The woman had run screaming when Rian had torn out the man's throat – Roy had laid a heavy hand on his shoulder in concern; Rian really should have shown some restraint but the blood ran hot and heavy, and he was hungry. Blood always tasted so much better fresh.
They only hunted occasionally – subsisting on blood bags the rest of the time. After having tasted fresh Rian did not know how Roy could drink the coagulated, cold blood without complaint. When they hunted, that was when Rian felt the most alive.
Roy sat on the fire escape behind Rian, down in the well. He was satiated an a bit drowsy; after they had sucked the pimp dry the two of them had had sex on the rooftop – buzzed with adrenaline and endorphins Rian rode Roy hard.
Rian ran his tongue over his fangs, careful not to nick himself. He could hardly look back at the kid he was not even a year ago without some measure of contempt. The hunger still burned inside him; he should not crave more blood this quickly but the violence and the sex had his appetite boiling.
He glanced back at Roy, who was watching him intently. He did not have to speak to telegraph his intent, and he chose to ignore the disapproval in Roy's expression. Rian stood up, and then stepped into space, dropping three stories effortlessly. He would not land on any of the assembled people, but instead managed to execute a perfect three-point landing behind the drug dealer himself. Rian felt the blacktop give slightly with his landing, but it did not crack. His knee, however, was not lucky – it had shattered upon the impact. Rian gritted his teeth as he felt the tendons and bone twining and healing itself quickly thanks to the fresh blood in his system, but the process still took several seconds.
As the drug dealer turned his gun on Rian, he knew that he really did not have those several seconds to spare.
“What the fuck-?” The man spat, jittering slightly and looking up into the darkness as if to ascertain where Rian had truly come from. “What-”
Rian got to his feet slowly, unconcerned. The automatic weapon in his face that once would have made his stomach shrink in on himself now provided some amusement, as Rian covered the muzzle of the pistol with one hand. “Am I supposed to be afraid of this?” Rian asked. A girl screamed behind them, and Rian looked over the shoulder of the drug dealer at the pair, a girl and a boy not that much older than Rian was.
The girl was tugging on the boy's sleeve, but the boy was staring at Rian, transfixed. Rian's mouth went dry and he felt the first hint of fear creep into his system at the look of recognition in the boy's eyes.
“Go,” Rian snarled, flashing his fangs.
The pair did not hesitate further. They turned and booked it out of the alley as if the devil himself was on their heels. Rian watched them go, distracted so much he almost did not notice the pain of the drug dealer pulling the trigger and blowing apart his left hand.
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Rian growled as the man leveled the gun at his face. He hissed, and the sound startled the man. He dropped his gun when Rian grabbed him by the throat with his intact hand and slammed him into the solid brick wall. “Now,” Rian said, making sure that the drug dealer could see his fangs. “Now I'm pissed.”
#
Roy leaned his head back against the brick wall. He did not have to look to tell what was going on beneath him. The scent of freshly spilled blood hung heavy in the air, and despite himself that made Roy a bit hungry again. He was not as taken by the bloodlust as Rian seemed to be; Roy had only ever been insatiable in that dark time before, where his memories bled into nothing but red mist.
The problem was that Rian was insatiable now. He had not quite gotten to the point of killing for pleasure but it was there within him. Roy could sense it. He did not need to kill again and yet he had barely even hesitated before tearing out his second throat of the evening. He had not turned his attentions to innocent people yet … but Roy did not want to wait that long.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, scenting beyond the blood dripping down the wall behind the dying drug dealer, scenting beyond the fear and the death here and to the city beyond. There was so much blood here, good and bad – both his prey and his prize. Roy had as much duty to protect these people as they did to provide him with sustenance, and life. He could feed without killing, and had in the past.
The fire escape rattled as Rian climbed it. Roy opened his eyes slowly, as Rian pulled himself up and over the iron railing. Blood coated his chin and throat, running down to stain his clothes. It discolored even the plain black tee shirt Rian was currently wearing. Roy frowned at him, and Rian cocked his head, breathing hard through his mouth.
Roy was struck through at the way Rian was looking at him. He was looking at Roy as if Roy was his next meal, as if Roy was his prey and Rian was merely toying with him. Roy had not totally lost fear in this new life of his, but he was not certain that the felling that crept over him was so much fear, as it was sheer dread.
Rian … was something else, entirely.
There was a noise at the mouth of the alley, as the buyers who Rian had scared off dared to return – with backup. Rian turned his head, his eyes narrowed; but when he looked back to Roy, his expression was the same Rian that Roy had known for almost two years. Roy's relief was palpable.
“We need to go,” Roy said. “Clean up.”
Rian wiped a hand across his mouth and it came away covered in blood. He looked at it, almost seeming surprised at the volume of blood smeared across his face. Rian pulled the hem of his tee shirt up and used it to wipe off his face, all the while still balancing precariously on the railing.
“Show-off,” Roy muttered, and when Rian dropped his shirt down, he grinned cheekily.
“Come on,” Rian said. He rose to his feet and stepped down off the railing and onto the fire escape proper. The movement jostled the entire platform, and drew attention from the people down below. “The natives are restless.”
“You are too reckless,” Roy scolded as they ascended quickly, the racket of people yelling and trying to reach the ladder fading fast. “We could have slipped off, and they would have been none the wiser.”
“They're no threat,” Rian said confidently. Roy hesitated just long enough to Rian a dark look. “We should get back, I bet Ed's home by now.” Rian wiggled his ass almost in Roy's face as he climbed before him. “I am so fucking horny.”
#
Edward was sitting alone in the den. He had finished off the beer, polished off the other bottles in record time and just sat there, quietly. He was thinking.
The old man was dead. Why had Alphonse not contacted him? They had not repaired their relationship to the level it had been before, but they were at least on speaking terms, now. Perhaps he did not know.
It was foolish to think that he did not know. Even though Alphonse had left the pack as well, he still had his ties to them. Alphonse was a pack animal; he fought to belong where Edward had fought to leave. He had tried not to think of how the years would have been different if he had convinced his brother to leave with him that night. If the two of them had run – where would they be now?
Thoughts like that would break him.
Alphonse was his brother. He knew that Edward would put Roy first, just as he knew that Alphonse would put the pack first. Why had he not come to Edward? Because, he knew that Edward would refuse to get involved. Why did he not tell Edward about the old man's death?
Because that would not change anything. The old man was still dead.
Russell, though.
Russell, who he had not seen in two years. Whom he had all but chased out of town when he tried to kill Roy – honest mistake, at that, he thought it was Roy who had nearly killed Edward. Edward had been in a rage – he had delivered Winry's special potion as promised and made sure that Russell understood if he came back to this city and Edward knew about it, that he would kill him.
That kiss. Edward laid his finger across his lips, and then looked back at the empty bottle of beer he had been holding of an hour. They had been lovers once, before Edward had left the city that first time – and he was not sure if they had ever been anything more than that. The air was always charged when they came into contact. Hatred and anger crackled in the air between them, even when they were in bed together. It made the sex just that much more mind-blowing.
He had not passed a thought on Tringham in two years, not an ounce of regret had ever coursed through his veins and now – sandy blond hair and blue eyes....
The glass bottle shattered against the wall when Edward threw it.
#
Rian showered first, while he had wiped his face clean upon closer inspection he was still a mess. There was dried blood in his hair. He massaged his scalp under the spray of hot water, the showerhead blocking out everything.
There was an old legend that vampires could not cross running water. Thankfully, that particular myth was not true because in this day and age you could not walk five feet without crossing pipes full of waste and water buried deep under the ground. However, there was something to the legend, because when he was in the shower Rian could only sense Roy. His other senses dulled, his nose clogged with steam and he could not hear outside the shower with the water on. It was almost like being human again. The echoes of the stream filled his existence and instead of fearing it, Rian chose to welcome the silence.
Someone recognized him.
That, he did fear. Rian had not had many friends in his other life, but he was at least somewhat known on the streets. His disappearance did not mean much to the other street kids; he was nearly aged out of the system as it was. However, there were people on the street that would recognize him, and Rian realize with horror that he had become exactly what it was that they used to fear.
Rian had not told Roy. Roy sensed something, but even with their bond he could only sense that Rian was distressed, not the source. He would keep this to himself for as long as he could, because Roy would panic, and their hunts would stop. Rian could take this thought to Edward, perhaps – but Edward would tell Roy and what about the bond that they supposedly shared?
Besides, Edward was in a mood. Rian could sense it before they even walked in the door and he had been put off from his goal of getting in to the werewolf's pants tonight. It was always Rian that initiated sex with Edward, and Edward did not turn him down but there seemed to be this unspoken thing where Edward felt that Rian belonged to Roy, and that was not the case at all. Roy would not have sired Rian if it were not for Edward – Rian belonged to the werewolf just as much as he did his own sire.
Getting Edward to understand that was the hard part.
Something had happened. Roy was probably discussing it with Edward now – and a flash of jealousy flickered through his consciousness. They still treated him like “the kid,” the child that they had to protect. He hated that feeling more than anything. Rian had been a full-blooded vampire for almost a year now – and while he was still strongly beholden to that sire/kin relationship, he did not need to be sheltered or protected. They did not trust him. Not yet.
Not that Rian had any idea of how to make them trust him.
Rian laid both hands flat on the steam-warmed tile and let the hot water scald its way down his back. He had spent so much of his life not giving a fuck as to what other people thought, expecting them to accept him as he was that he did not know how to deal with it when confronted by it.
If he wanted Edward's trust, he needed to be able to give it first.
Rian faced the spray, rinsing his hair again and turning his thoughts inward. He could feel the blood in his belly, he was warm and full and satiated and no matter what was going on with the werewolf, no matter what he knew that at least Roy loved him. He was a part of Roy, and Roy was a part of him, and that was a feeling that he knew down to his very core.
For now, that was going to have to do.
#
Roy placed the glass before Edward. The werewolf sat at the kitchen table, the harsh fluorescence of the overhead light washing out the color of his hair. He looked tired in a way Roy had not seen since he first met the werewolf so many years ago.
Edward looked at the shot of whiskey and smiled. It was a tired smile, but still he summoned the emotion from somewhere. “How did you know?” he asked. “You always know.”
“I always know,” Roy echoed, capping the bottle of alcohol. Occasionally he partook as well, to make Edward feel better, but vampires could not get drunk from straight alcohol. He did not need the drink as Edward did. He watched silently as Edward downed the shot.
He did always know. They had a bond, he and Edward. Roy did not know how to explain it – it was even in the way that the color came off him. All people had an aura; Roy had learned very quickly how not to see it unless he needed to. It helped him to know who best to prey on and it helped him identify those Breeds who hid among regular folk. Edward's aura, red tinged with the faintest striping of gold, was almost completely unique. Most Breeds had a red aura. Vampires had none. He had only seen the striping on one other – Edward's brother, Alphonse.
Edward's aura, it roiled. It was always moving, sending out dark red tendrils toward him. They always faced him, and followed in whatever direction Roy moved. Edward loved him; he loved Roy so deeply and so thoroughly that it had become a part of his very existence.
Roy felt honored by that. He did not know how else to express the depth of emotion. Edward – this magnificent, wild, golden wolf – loved him, a vampire. The scum of the earth. The vermin of the night world.
Now he could see the hesitation in the tendrils. They still came after him, but not as quickly. Something very important was on Edward's mind.
Roy sat down at the table opposite Edward. Edward was staring down into the empty glass as if it contained all the mysteries of the universe. “Ed,” Roy said softly. “I'm here.”
Edward did not look up; but slowly, he smiled.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed, Roy/Rian, Russell/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 5548
Summary: It's been a year, and things really aren't the same as they were before. Roy worries about Rian, and Edward is confronted with his past.
Roy Mustang woke to an empty bed.
This had become a common occurrence. He yawned, tongue probing gently at those too-sharp teeth and sat up on one arm. Even in the absolute darkness of the small bedroom, where there was blackout curtains installed to keep the outside world away, he could sense the night. The last vestiges of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon. It called to him, the night.
He had spent too many years trying to avoid the darkness, and the creature that he had become. Roy sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Edward had left first as he often did, early on during daylight, sliding out of the bed and pressing a kiss to Roy's temple. He had left the apartment fully dressed; he was going to find work and that required two legs instead of four. He would be back soon.
Rian had been nestled under Roy's arm, sandwiched between the two of them when they slept. Roy inhaled again, trying to get a sense of where his kin had gone. His scent was old, like Edward's – he had left early. Rian had more immunity to the daylight than Roy did, and would often get up in the evening, before dusk. He was still here, and nearby – but not in the apartment itself. Roy opened his eyes to the darkness.
It had been a rough few months. Things were starting to settle into a routine and he was glad for it. Edward hated routine, he knew, and it was only a matter of time before Edward would do something to challenge the status quo, but now Roy and Rian both would be fully equipped to deal with whatever shit Edward drug back to their apartment to make life interesting again.
Roy found a clean shirt somewhere and pulled it on. Rian had not moved, and Roy could sense him still. He was in no danger, there was no warning that he should be on his guard. It seemed like Rian was on the roof.
He slid open the patio door and gracefully stepped onto the balcony. They were not the top apartment in the building, but it was dark and no one was likely to see him. Roy hopped up onto the railing, and with terrifying ease he leapt, catching the bottom of the overhanging balcony with both hands and casually flipping himself up to land on the railing of the third floor balcony. Two additional, similar jumps, performed with barely a pause to see if anyone observed him, and Roy flipped up onto the roof.
The roof was the best vantage point in this neighborhood of smaller apartment buildings. Roy crouched on the lip of the roof and looked down the street, lit with brake lights and street lamps, before looking over. Rian was sitting on the edge of the building, bare feet dangling above the five-story drop without a single batted eyelash.
Roy inhaled deeply; the night air was full of relevant information. Rian did not glance noticeably in his direction, but Roy knew that Rian felt his presence just as keenly as Roy felt Rian's own. It was a benefit – and a handicap – of the bond a sire and their kin felt. Roy walked along the edge of the roof until he seated himself next to Rian, and looked back out across the veritable sea of buildings.
Rian looked particularly young out here, vulnerable and alone. Roy felt the urge to sling his arm over Rian's shoulder but did not succumb to it. It was not wise to touch a vampire without their permission, as Roy knew all too well. Rian was still newly turned, and sensitive.
Roy glanced at him. Rian had been so young to die; Roy could not bear it. So instead, he ultimately cursed Rian with this existence, alive and yet not, bound to immortality found in the lifeblood of others.
If Rian hated him for what he had done, he masked it extraordinarily well. He did brood, a lot – which Roy could not decide if it was a teenager thing or a vampire thing – but the roof had become his domain for that specific purpose.
Roy cocked his head but did not look back to Rian. “Are you hungry?” he asked. It was a silly question.
Vampires were always hungry.
Rian lifted his head; his shaggy dark hair was longer than Roy's own was. It fell into his eyes and around his face, caught by the wind. “I want to hunt,” he said. His voice was ragged and hoarse, like he had been screaming.
Roy nodded his head; the scent of prey was everywhere, almost overwhelming in this city. So many people. So much blood. “Yes,” he said, feeling the beast within him rising. “Let's hunt.”
Edward Elric returned home to an empty apartment.
It did not used to be this way. He flipped the light on in the den, only to illuminate an empty couch and a dark television. He knew without looking that he was alone; the scents of Roy and Rian were old and faded. They had been gone a while.
Edward heeled off his boots, kicking them against the door and walking across the living room, headed for the kitchen. He tried not to let it bother him, he tried not to let the changes in their life affect him, but it was hard to pretend as if everything was fine. Everything was not fine. It would probably never be “fine” again.
He lived in constant fear that one day he would come home and that Roy and Rian would be gone like this – but that they would never return. Edward would never have imagined Roy to be the type to abandon, but now Roy had another lover; a vampire as well, someone who understood him intimately in a way that Edward could not. Some days Edward felt like it was just a matter of time.
There was little in the refrigerator but bags of blood and half a six-pack of beer. They needed some groceries, but he was the only one who lived here that got their sustenance from actual foodstuffs. Edward retrieved a bottle of beer and let the door close with a small “thud.”
Edward pushed aside his emotions about what could happen, and focused instead on what had. He had woken up with Roy's arm slung over his side, wrist resting on his ribs, as he had to reach across another body to touch Edward. Even in his sleep, he still sought to touch Edward.
It was hard trying to find work in the city. If he looked hard enough there were plenty of deaths to investigate, creatures that slid off the path of decency and spiraled into the darkness to hunt … any number of things. However, bounties on the Breeds were at an all-time low, and even Winry did not have anything for him currently. Her component shelf was even fully stocked and did not need any of his special supply runs. There was, quite literally, no work for a wolf.
So instead, he had spent a few hours in the back room of a local dive, cleaning house. He had come out of the poker game a few thousand richer, and then had to outrun some pissed gamblers who did not like some fresh-faced rookie turning up and cleaning out their wallets. It would have been easier to turn on them, to flash an impossible mouthful of teeth and watch them run screaming into the night, but Breeds did not work that way. You did not reveal yourself unless threatened. That was just the way it was.
He was restless. This new reality for all three of them left Edward feeling the third wheel to almost everything that occurred. He had already tried to leave once and Rian had stopped him, angry as hell that Edward would just walk out on the man that he professed to love. The problem was Edward did love Roy. It was just that things were different, now.
Edward had always been a migrant. A nomad. He did not settle; he just kept moving. Yet, here – here he had chosen to stay, here with Roy. All because Roy was searching for some clue to his past and to whom he really was. Now Roy had Rian, and the pair of them was off doing vampire things together and Edward was sitting alone in a too-bright apartment, drinking beer and thinking bitterly about how his world had changed.
The knock at the door surprised him. Usually he sensed when people were lingering outside the front door, but he had been absorbed in his beer and self-pity. Still carrying the glass bottle in one hand Edward opened the door without checking the peephole first.
That was his first mistake.
Russell Tringham stood outside the door, arms crossed. He glanced at the beer in Edward's hand, and then back to his face just as quickly. “I thought I smelled booze,” Russell said, and while there was no judgment in his words, it was present in his tone.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Edward said, leaning against the doorframe and staring at the former detective. “I thought I told you to get the hell out of town two years ago.”
He looked exceedingly different. If his scent had not stayed, the same Edward would not have been certain it was the same man. Two years ago, when Edward had been bled-out and weak he was still strong enough to cow Russell. Russell was a half-breed, a mutt born weak and unable to transform. He could not go toe to toe with a full-blood wolf.
Russell's face was lined; he was older and more certain of himself. His blond hair had gotten long, not quite as long as the way Edward wore his but enough that he could clip it back away from his face. He did not look like a cop anymore. “You know how well I like listening,” Russell snorted, and there was the old belligerence. The anger used to snap between them like a living thing, and it was so comfortable that Edward welcomed it.
Russell peeled off the gloves he was wearing and produced an envelope from the inside of his snug biker's jacket. “I'm back because you need to see this.”
“What is it?” Edward only took the letter from Russell when he freely offered it.
“A declaration of war,” Russell said. “The clans are uniting, all except for the large one in the South. If they don't agree to be absorbed, and all-out war is threatened.”
Edward opened the letter, and after scanning the top three lines, he stepped aside, wordlessly allowing Russell past him and closing the door securely behind him.
“War,” Edward echoed, still skimming the letter. “The tribes are ridiculous, and I was shunned. Why are you telling me-?”
Russell cut Edward's words off with haste as he pinned Edward back against the front door, and kissed him. Edward struggled against Russell, the mutt had always been bigger than he was, and he had more meat on him so that Edward had difficulty trying to leverage against him. After a few long moments Edward surrendered to the kiss, to the long-missed taste and texture of another wolf until finally they parted, panting.
“I'm telling you,” Russell said, his face still far too close to Edward's own. “Because despite your insane attachment to vampires, I still love you.”
Edward put both his hands on Russell's chest and the other wolf allowed Edward to push him away. He was a wolf now, not just a mutt. Winry's potion, recompense for all that Russell had done to save Edward's life, had done its job and unlocked the beast within Russell. He wore the change in his lack of trepidation with Edward. He was not afraid any longer – they were equals now.
Edward swiped his hand over his mouth and looked away, to the beer bottle where it had overturned on the floor when he dropped it. “Idiot,” Edward said softly, ignoring the rising feeling in his chest. “They won't want me.”
“Wolves are being conscripted, Ed. Shanghaied. You are strong, especially for a mutt. They're going to want you most of all.” Russell's blue eyes were trained intently on Edward's. “You must be careful. Please.”
Suddenly, things that had been going on under the surface for months now made sense. The call to gather and to hunt had not been going out with the same frequency, and lately had stopped altogether. Edward wiped his mouth again, as if the taste of Russell lingered. “They can't go to war,” he said. “It would mean ruination for too many of the smaller clans.”
“I look forward to you explaining that to the Elders,” Russell said dryly.
“It could mean exposure,” Edward said. His back was still flattened against the door and Russell was entirely too close. His scent was overwhelming Edward, and if he moved – Edward was not entirely sure what would happen. Russell needed to leave, now – before he did something he would regret. “They won't risk it.”
Russell could not disguise his snort and Edward burned at the arrogance. Russell had not grown up with the wolf tribes, anything that he had learned in the past two years did not measure up to a lifetime of indoctrination and hatred that Edward had cultivated. As if reading his mind, Russell turned away. “You've been gone too long,” he said. “Things are different. The old man is dead.”
Edward's heart leapt into his throat. He remembered the old wolf, a wizened ancient creature that was bent almost double with the weight of his age in his human form. He had protected the tribe for as long as Edward could remember. He had even ordered the protection of two young half-breed cubs found lost and alone after their mother had died. “He's … dead?”
“Ousted. Things are very different now.” Russell was pulling his gloves back on, clearly ready to leave. “A lot of them – a lot of the younger wolves have left the tribe to form their own splinter groups in an act of defiance. A lot of them have been hunted down and branded. The new guy … doesn't like initiative.”
Edward could not concentrate on that. He shook his head violently; the old man could not be dead. “Who sits in his -?”
“Scar.”
Edward's head shot up. The outcast. The traitor. The one who did not wear his human form and who never spoke. Edward had fought him once before, in this very city. He had nearly died. “How-?”
“Things are different now. You need to keep your head down.” Russell finally looked at him. “There are a lot of us fighting him, fighting all of them, Ed. We could use your help, but I will not ask for it. I just came to warn you. Storms' coming.”
Edward was too stunned to fight or to accept the kiss a second time, and Russell casually moved him aside so that he could leave. The other wolf paused in the doorway and looked back at Edward. He did not say anything else. He did not have to.
Russell Tringham shut the door behind him.
Rian Martin crouched effortlessly on the railing of a fire escape and looked down three stories below. In the alley below them, a drug deal was getting ready to go down. He was watching, balanced perfectly, only for amusements' sake. They had already fed.
Roy did not like killing their prey. Once, Rian would have agreed. Once the creature he had become might have even horrified him, thriving on the lifeblood of others - but that part of him had already died. They never harmed innocents, but this city was full of dregs that society would never miss. Dregs like the scum below about to set some kids up with their first big deal.
Rian and Roy had already eaten, sharing a pimp who had been seconds away from shooting one of his prostitutes. The woman had run screaming when Rian had torn out the man's throat – Roy had laid a heavy hand on his shoulder in concern; Rian really should have shown some restraint but the blood ran hot and heavy, and he was hungry. Blood always tasted so much better fresh.
They only hunted occasionally – subsisting on blood bags the rest of the time. After having tasted fresh Rian did not know how Roy could drink the coagulated, cold blood without complaint. When they hunted, that was when Rian felt the most alive.
Roy sat on the fire escape behind Rian, down in the well. He was satiated an a bit drowsy; after they had sucked the pimp dry the two of them had had sex on the rooftop – buzzed with adrenaline and endorphins Rian rode Roy hard.
Rian ran his tongue over his fangs, careful not to nick himself. He could hardly look back at the kid he was not even a year ago without some measure of contempt. The hunger still burned inside him; he should not crave more blood this quickly but the violence and the sex had his appetite boiling.
He glanced back at Roy, who was watching him intently. He did not have to speak to telegraph his intent, and he chose to ignore the disapproval in Roy's expression. Rian stood up, and then stepped into space, dropping three stories effortlessly. He would not land on any of the assembled people, but instead managed to execute a perfect three-point landing behind the drug dealer himself. Rian felt the blacktop give slightly with his landing, but it did not crack. His knee, however, was not lucky – it had shattered upon the impact. Rian gritted his teeth as he felt the tendons and bone twining and healing itself quickly thanks to the fresh blood in his system, but the process still took several seconds.
As the drug dealer turned his gun on Rian, he knew that he really did not have those several seconds to spare.
“What the fuck-?” The man spat, jittering slightly and looking up into the darkness as if to ascertain where Rian had truly come from. “What-”
Rian got to his feet slowly, unconcerned. The automatic weapon in his face that once would have made his stomach shrink in on himself now provided some amusement, as Rian covered the muzzle of the pistol with one hand. “Am I supposed to be afraid of this?” Rian asked. A girl screamed behind them, and Rian looked over the shoulder of the drug dealer at the pair, a girl and a boy not that much older than Rian was.
The girl was tugging on the boy's sleeve, but the boy was staring at Rian, transfixed. Rian's mouth went dry and he felt the first hint of fear creep into his system at the look of recognition in the boy's eyes.
“Go,” Rian snarled, flashing his fangs.
The pair did not hesitate further. They turned and booked it out of the alley as if the devil himself was on their heels. Rian watched them go, distracted so much he almost did not notice the pain of the drug dealer pulling the trigger and blowing apart his left hand.
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Rian growled as the man leveled the gun at his face. He hissed, and the sound startled the man. He dropped his gun when Rian grabbed him by the throat with his intact hand and slammed him into the solid brick wall. “Now,” Rian said, making sure that the drug dealer could see his fangs. “Now I'm pissed.”
Roy leaned his head back against the brick wall. He did not have to look to tell what was going on beneath him. The scent of freshly spilled blood hung heavy in the air, and despite himself that made Roy a bit hungry again. He was not as taken by the bloodlust as Rian seemed to be; Roy had only ever been insatiable in that dark time before, where his memories bled into nothing but red mist.
The problem was that Rian was insatiable now. He had not quite gotten to the point of killing for pleasure but it was there within him. Roy could sense it. He did not need to kill again and yet he had barely even hesitated before tearing out his second throat of the evening. He had not turned his attentions to innocent people yet … but Roy did not want to wait that long.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, scenting beyond the blood dripping down the wall behind the dying drug dealer, scenting beyond the fear and the death here and to the city beyond. There was so much blood here, good and bad – both his prey and his prize. Roy had as much duty to protect these people as they did to provide him with sustenance, and life. He could feed without killing, and had in the past.
The fire escape rattled as Rian climbed it. Roy opened his eyes slowly, as Rian pulled himself up and over the iron railing. Blood coated his chin and throat, running down to stain his clothes. It discolored even the plain black tee shirt Rian was currently wearing. Roy frowned at him, and Rian cocked his head, breathing hard through his mouth.
Roy was struck through at the way Rian was looking at him. He was looking at Roy as if Roy was his next meal, as if Roy was his prey and Rian was merely toying with him. Roy had not totally lost fear in this new life of his, but he was not certain that the felling that crept over him was so much fear, as it was sheer dread.
Rian … was something else, entirely.
There was a noise at the mouth of the alley, as the buyers who Rian had scared off dared to return – with backup. Rian turned his head, his eyes narrowed; but when he looked back to Roy, his expression was the same Rian that Roy had known for almost two years. Roy's relief was palpable.
“We need to go,” Roy said. “Clean up.”
Rian wiped a hand across his mouth and it came away covered in blood. He looked at it, almost seeming surprised at the volume of blood smeared across his face. Rian pulled the hem of his tee shirt up and used it to wipe off his face, all the while still balancing precariously on the railing.
“Show-off,” Roy muttered, and when Rian dropped his shirt down, he grinned cheekily.
“Come on,” Rian said. He rose to his feet and stepped down off the railing and onto the fire escape proper. The movement jostled the entire platform, and drew attention from the people down below. “The natives are restless.”
“You are too reckless,” Roy scolded as they ascended quickly, the racket of people yelling and trying to reach the ladder fading fast. “We could have slipped off, and they would have been none the wiser.”
“They're no threat,” Rian said confidently. Roy hesitated just long enough to Rian a dark look. “We should get back, I bet Ed's home by now.” Rian wiggled his ass almost in Roy's face as he climbed before him. “I am so fucking horny.”
Edward was sitting alone in the den. He had finished off the beer, polished off the other bottles in record time and just sat there, quietly. He was thinking.
The old man was dead. Why had Alphonse not contacted him? They had not repaired their relationship to the level it had been before, but they were at least on speaking terms, now. Perhaps he did not know.
It was foolish to think that he did not know. Even though Alphonse had left the pack as well, he still had his ties to them. Alphonse was a pack animal; he fought to belong where Edward had fought to leave. He had tried not to think of how the years would have been different if he had convinced his brother to leave with him that night. If the two of them had run – where would they be now?
Thoughts like that would break him.
Alphonse was his brother. He knew that Edward would put Roy first, just as he knew that Alphonse would put the pack first. Why had he not come to Edward? Because, he knew that Edward would refuse to get involved. Why did he not tell Edward about the old man's death?
Because that would not change anything. The old man was still dead.
Russell, though.
Russell, who he had not seen in two years. Whom he had all but chased out of town when he tried to kill Roy – honest mistake, at that, he thought it was Roy who had nearly killed Edward. Edward had been in a rage – he had delivered Winry's special potion as promised and made sure that Russell understood if he came back to this city and Edward knew about it, that he would kill him.
That kiss. Edward laid his finger across his lips, and then looked back at the empty bottle of beer he had been holding of an hour. They had been lovers once, before Edward had left the city that first time – and he was not sure if they had ever been anything more than that. The air was always charged when they came into contact. Hatred and anger crackled in the air between them, even when they were in bed together. It made the sex just that much more mind-blowing.
He had not passed a thought on Tringham in two years, not an ounce of regret had ever coursed through his veins and now – sandy blond hair and blue eyes....
The glass bottle shattered against the wall when Edward threw it.
Rian showered first, while he had wiped his face clean upon closer inspection he was still a mess. There was dried blood in his hair. He massaged his scalp under the spray of hot water, the showerhead blocking out everything.
There was an old legend that vampires could not cross running water. Thankfully, that particular myth was not true because in this day and age you could not walk five feet without crossing pipes full of waste and water buried deep under the ground. However, there was something to the legend, because when he was in the shower Rian could only sense Roy. His other senses dulled, his nose clogged with steam and he could not hear outside the shower with the water on. It was almost like being human again. The echoes of the stream filled his existence and instead of fearing it, Rian chose to welcome the silence.
Someone recognized him.
That, he did fear. Rian had not had many friends in his other life, but he was at least somewhat known on the streets. His disappearance did not mean much to the other street kids; he was nearly aged out of the system as it was. However, there were people on the street that would recognize him, and Rian realize with horror that he had become exactly what it was that they used to fear.
Rian had not told Roy. Roy sensed something, but even with their bond he could only sense that Rian was distressed, not the source. He would keep this to himself for as long as he could, because Roy would panic, and their hunts would stop. Rian could take this thought to Edward, perhaps – but Edward would tell Roy and what about the bond that they supposedly shared?
Besides, Edward was in a mood. Rian could sense it before they even walked in the door and he had been put off from his goal of getting in to the werewolf's pants tonight. It was always Rian that initiated sex with Edward, and Edward did not turn him down but there seemed to be this unspoken thing where Edward felt that Rian belonged to Roy, and that was not the case at all. Roy would not have sired Rian if it were not for Edward – Rian belonged to the werewolf just as much as he did his own sire.
Getting Edward to understand that was the hard part.
Something had happened. Roy was probably discussing it with Edward now – and a flash of jealousy flickered through his consciousness. They still treated him like “the kid,” the child that they had to protect. He hated that feeling more than anything. Rian had been a full-blooded vampire for almost a year now – and while he was still strongly beholden to that sire/kin relationship, he did not need to be sheltered or protected. They did not trust him. Not yet.
Not that Rian had any idea of how to make them trust him.
Rian laid both hands flat on the steam-warmed tile and let the hot water scald its way down his back. He had spent so much of his life not giving a fuck as to what other people thought, expecting them to accept him as he was that he did not know how to deal with it when confronted by it.
If he wanted Edward's trust, he needed to be able to give it first.
Rian faced the spray, rinsing his hair again and turning his thoughts inward. He could feel the blood in his belly, he was warm and full and satiated and no matter what was going on with the werewolf, no matter what he knew that at least Roy loved him. He was a part of Roy, and Roy was a part of him, and that was a feeling that he knew down to his very core.
For now, that was going to have to do.
Roy placed the glass before Edward. The werewolf sat at the kitchen table, the harsh fluorescence of the overhead light washing out the color of his hair. He looked tired in a way Roy had not seen since he first met the werewolf so many years ago.
Edward looked at the shot of whiskey and smiled. It was a tired smile, but still he summoned the emotion from somewhere. “How did you know?” he asked. “You always know.”
“I always know,” Roy echoed, capping the bottle of alcohol. Occasionally he partook as well, to make Edward feel better, but vampires could not get drunk from straight alcohol. He did not need the drink as Edward did. He watched silently as Edward downed the shot.
He did always know. They had a bond, he and Edward. Roy did not know how to explain it – it was even in the way that the color came off him. All people had an aura; Roy had learned very quickly how not to see it unless he needed to. It helped him to know who best to prey on and it helped him identify those Breeds who hid among regular folk. Edward's aura, red tinged with the faintest striping of gold, was almost completely unique. Most Breeds had a red aura. Vampires had none. He had only seen the striping on one other – Edward's brother, Alphonse.
Edward's aura, it roiled. It was always moving, sending out dark red tendrils toward him. They always faced him, and followed in whatever direction Roy moved. Edward loved him; he loved Roy so deeply and so thoroughly that it had become a part of his very existence.
Roy felt honored by that. He did not know how else to express the depth of emotion. Edward – this magnificent, wild, golden wolf – loved him, a vampire. The scum of the earth. The vermin of the night world.
Now he could see the hesitation in the tendrils. They still came after him, but not as quickly. Something very important was on Edward's mind.
Roy sat down at the table opposite Edward. Edward was staring down into the empty glass as if it contained all the mysteries of the universe. “Ed,” Roy said softly. “I'm here.”
Edward did not look up; but slowly, he smiled.