Fic: Give me a reason to regret -Vampire AU - Wesley\Charles
As you all know Wesley\Charles Wednesday’s 10th week anniversary was yesterday/today/whatever timezones suck and I asked what past Wesley\Charles Wednesday fic you would like continued and Lunac7 requested that I continue the vampire AU that papercutperfect requested I continue which I originally wrote for Talia so here it is in the full:
Talia’s one - The Vampire AU Where Charles is a savvy motherfucker. And Wes just wants Charles to himself.
They were born together. They lived together. They died together. They were reborn together. They were turned the first of January 1920, at the strike of midnight. It had been five decades and two years since then. The bar is buzzing with life. They sit together in the far corner, huddled close.
"She looks like fun."
He tries not to pout. “Must we do this tonight?”
Charles looks at him, leans in close so that if he leaned in they would kiss. “Would you rather we leave? Take delight in each other’s company?” Charles’s eyes are bright with excitement and arousal. Charles licks his lips. “Or would you rather I take you in the alley where anyone could walk by and see?” He shivers at Charles’s words and he wants that desperately. Charles smirks. “At least with her it would not be questioned.”
He lets out a whine, and clutches at Charles hand. Charles is composed, calm and Charles squeezes his hand once before standing and walking away, to that girl. He wants to scream and kill. But most of all he wants Charles. It is only a few minutes before Charles returns with the girl — he was going to rip her throat open — she looks nervous for all the wrong reasons.
"—And I’d like you to meet my brother Wesley. I’m sure we are going to have lots of fun with each other."
They leave the bar together. They take the girl home together. They fuck the girl together. They drink the girl’s blood together. They kill the girl together. They stay together.
Once upon a time there was two boys that dreamed of ruling the world. Both boys knew if they wished it hard enough they could achieve it. It is when they both die and begin anew they truly start their dream. It leads them all around the world; Italy, Russia, Philippines, Australia, The United Kingdom, Indonesia, Germany, Vietnam, Korea, Thailand, Fiji, New Zealand, France and Africa. Jumping from place to place, learning — always learning — the culture, immersing themselves. It isn’t until they return to their birthplace, The United States of America New York City, do they settle until the two thousands.
That doesn’t stop them adopting habits from their adventures. Charles had grown fond of the British accent so he kept it. Wesley didn’t bother with accents instead he kept the knowledge of weaponry. And if they both had a great fondness for German beer and Russian vodka they never told any of their ‘friends’. What was one more secret on the growing pile of manipulation and lies.
They are huddled in the far corner of a club, dubstep thumps above them. He doesn’t focus on that. He focuses on Charles. It’s always about Charles. Has always been about Charles. Except Charles is not focusing on him. Charles’s attention is drawn to a man tonight. He snarls under his breath. That earns him a sharp, warning, glance from Charles. He pushes down the urge to drop to the floor, crawl and kneel at Charles’s feet, and beg forgiveness.
"He’s not even good looking." That’s a lie but he doesn’t want to do this tonight. He just wants to spend the night with Charles and only Charles.
"I like him."
The words are out before he could stop them.
"You like anything with two legs and a fucking heartbeat!"
Charles doesn’t even blink, but at least he’s being paid attention to.
Charles is looking at him, thoughtful, calm and he spots a flash of amusement in Charles’s eyes.
"Jealously doesn’t suit you. I should smack it out of you."
He shivers, his chest warms with hope. Hope that Charles will keep his word. He wants to hurt. Wants to bleed. Wants to taste death. He wants pain. And he wants Charles to give him that. Wants it so desperately.
The way Charles is looking at him tells him that Charles knows exactly what he wants, exactly what he is thinking.
Charles’s hand feels warm on his cheek. He can feel as Charles rubs circles with his thumb.
"Wesley, darling, give me him tonight and I will be yours until the next century. Only yours."
A century is a long time.
He snatches Charles’s other hand and curls it around his bared throat. Charles smiles and squeezes. He chokes. He doesn’t care as long as he gets some pain. Charles loosens his hold, brushing away his stray strands of hair, he leans into Charles’s touch.
"Okay. Just leave me some."
Charles pulls him into a kiss, obviously uncaring if an audience was to form.
When Charles pulls away he is smiling and that makes his heart beat faster. When Charles speaks, he speaks softly not wanting to be overheard.
"I love you. Thank-you."
Then Charles disappears onto the dance floor. He watches with a fond smile.
They feed on the man together. They fuck the man together. They make the man hurt together. They make him forget. Then they start over again. They do not kill him.
It was not Tony Stark’s time to leave the world. Tony would help those two boys, now men, conquer the world.
Then he would die.
They meet her in 1920, to the day in which they were turned. They meet him in 1962. These are the only encounters they do not wish to forget.
In 1920 they see her dancing, as though she hasn’t a care in the world. It is Charles that approaches her first, with his charm and wit she is quick to follow. He meets her second, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Charles smiles with approval. He basks in it for only a second before focusing on her.
She is beautiful. Blonde hair, grey eyes (if he were to look closely he could see flecks of gold) and blue eyeshadow that seems to compliment everything about her.
She turns to Charles, a smile on her lips. “What brings you two fine gentlemen to New York?”
Charles matches her smile and he wants to capture this moment forever, they are beautiful. Both so confident in getting what they want. It was going to be a battle of seduction and he eagerly wanted to know who would be the winner.
"We have lived here our whole lives madam, we are merely enjoying the music and the company of such beautiful creatures as yourself."
Her laugh is soft, chime-like. It can only mean trouble. He tenses and readies himself to flee. He clutches as the hem of Charles’s shirt. Charles doesn’t change, he merely continues to smile.
"And how long have you and your brother," her gaze fixes onto him, he glares hiding his fear "been dead?"
Charles takes a sip of his brandy, unaffected by her words. “Twenty years to the day,” he places down his drink and leans in close, so close that if either Charles or she were to be pushed they would kiss “I have to know, Raven, how did you know?”
She finishes the distance between them.
He feels unbearable pain as he watches them kiss. It was as if someone was burning him from the inside out, frying his brain. He clutches at his hair trying to distract himself from the godawful sensation. He Sees Charles struggling to pull away from Raven. He wants to rip her heart out but oh Christ he was in so much pain.
Then it doubles as she pulls away, leaving Charles to clutch at his own head. He manages to snarl at her. She laughs, tilting his chin up so that he can see her eyes — they’re no longer grey, instead they are gold — and she leans in close. He shudders.
"Can you guess what I am?"
No. He’s in too much pain. Everything is blurring around him. Everything hurts. Just before he loses conscious he hears Charles scream.
When he wakes everything is dark. He panics. Where was Charles? Was he — no he couldn’t think like that. He struggles to his feet, biting back a scream, he hadn’t felt so much pain in twenty years. Yet, he can’t stop, when he takes a step, his legs from giving way and he falls to his knees. The pain shakes his body and a small gasp of pain escapes him.
He hears nothing, and he feels fear for the first time in a long time.
Struggling to regain movement to his limbs he pushes himself to crawl until he reaches a wall. He forces himself to stand. It takes a few minutes for his legs to stop shaking and he leans against the wall, panting.
His throat feels raw as he screams Charles’s name.
Still silence answers him and he bites back the urge to cry. He can’t cry. He had to find Charles. Had to. With that thought he ignores the pain and slides against the wall until he reaches a door. He grabs at the handle frantically, his body shaking violently from all the pain. Except it won’t open and he screams and kicks at it and he does this until he can no longer stay awake.
When he awakes once more he is in a soft bed and he is no longer in pain.
"Your brother is quite the charmer."
He bolts up straight and looks around for that voice. He finds her sitting in the corner, watching him with a smile and he leaps out of the bed, determined to rip out her throat.
It is Charles that stops him, it’s always Charles.
Charles’s arms wrap around him as he is in mid pounce, he lets out a strangled scream and tries to claw at her from there. She just looks at him with amusement. It’s Charles’s voice that brings him back.
"It’s okay Wesley it’s okay. She is no longer a threat. We’re safe. We are together."
He turns his body so that he is face-to-face with Charles and he really has to bite back the urge to weep with relief. The urge hits him so strongly that only a few tears fall. He clings to Charles’s jacket and breathes in his scent. Charles doesn’t let go, instead pulls him in closer.
They stay like this for hours, then Charles explains.
After he thinks that he doesn’t like Raven’s tactics but he does like having a witch on their side.
It would be nice to no longer hide everyday, every hour.
So two becomes three.
It stays like this until 1962 and Charles meets him.