Prompt: What if?// Fic: Idiosyncrasies
Fic: Idiosyncrasies
Author: penguinfighter
Pairing: Shawn/Booker
Word Count: 937
Rating: R, gore
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: Blame the gallon-and-a-half of Coca-Cola and playing with the_booker , just a What if? situation story. Small cameo of TrueBlood drinks LOL, continuing from Breathing
Carefully, Shawn withdrew the intravenous tubing from the refreshed thief and observed how the skin grew back over the small wounds. Those blue eyes were so full of life, quite contrary to just five minutes ago, where they seemed to be ticking down to the last breath. Never in his life did Spencer think he'd do this to a fellow human being, not even his best friend. But the Booker had much left to live...
After getting dressed with clothes Shawn had swiped from a nearby store (it was 4:30 in the morning, who'd notice?), the Booker followed his familiar to an abandoned warehouse complex. The fake psychic dragged the recovering alcoholic inside and tossed him against the wall. "Where the fuck am I?" the wife-beater yelled, obviously pissed. Shawn swooped in to the man with the most insincere grin he could muster and said, "See that man there? He's just come out of his deathbed and he's really hungry so let's make this easier and keep quiet, okay?"
The Booker looked positively ravenous but hesitated to kill, something the pseudo-psychic found adorable. So to ease the learning pains, Shawn swiped the abuser's head clean off his shoulders and caught the body before it touched the ground. "Why do we need to eat this? Is there any other way?" Carlton had to ask while he knelt down, his new body shuddering at the smell of flesh. "TrueBlood but that only helps curb the immediate cravings with taste," Shawn replied matter-of-factly as he ripped out an arm, bit down on the muscle on the forearm and gave the thief the meatier portion.
The look on both their faces was the same: Maybe this was a mistake. But once Carlton bit into the flesh for the first time, Shawn saw a spark of security; he'd be all right. As they fed, Shawn quickly pointed out what organs the Booker could eat and what they did to his body. "Always try to save up some leftovers in case you get hungry in a flight," Spencer explained as he lifted the liver, split it into two halves and stored it in a jar he labeled "Booky".
Instantly, Booker felt his body warm up, feeling so much better he could almost jump. "That's your body reconstructing itself," Shawn commenting with a smile before the thief surprised him with a bloody kiss. "This feels so amazing," Booker said between euphoria-induced lip locks. "Yeah, then there's the sex drive on steroids to deal with but it wears off once you've had a couple of meals," Spencer laughed; he'd been in that same position barely a year ago. "Wha?" the art thief managed to ask, looking at the fellow demon like he had a bug. "You're going to be fucking around like Viagra-fed bunnies on the mating season from hell for the next couple of days," Spencer shrugged; it wasn't a side effect he didn't mind.
"Oh wow, guess I'm going to be hopping clubs for a while, pardon the bunny joke," the thief immediately blushed and removed himself from his familiar. Then the inevitable question arose as they concluded their meal. "How do you get rid of the guilt?" Booker inquired as he saw his eyes switch back to their normal light-blue and round irises. Shawn sighed when he replied, "You never do," before disappearing into the wee hours of the morning. He left a note for the newborn demon that read, "Any time you feel lost, head to Psych; I'll save you a pineapple smoothie...Children are ALWAYS a no-no". "He wants me to learn on my own...but I don't know if I can..." Booker said to himself, finally realizing what he had done to himself.
Shawn had neglected to tell the Booker the devastating crash he would feel after not feeding for a while. The thief felt languid, depraved of life as his body sweat and ached for fresh meat. The jar the fake psychic had spared him was painfully empty; he had to hunt, whether he wanted to or not. Eating some raw sirloin eased the hunger for a bit as he prowled the Austrian alleyways, looking for any idiot that stayed up past sensible hours.
Booker finally found his first victim in a brothel: a man soliciting for sex who reeked of other people's blood. His slit eyes, as he found out, allowed for a much better night vision as he trailed the man and his paid date into a car. He also discovered two other perks to his body: speed and strength while jumping onto a truck and chasing them into an isolated part of the Vienna countryside.
The Booker landed on all fours on top of the car's engine hood, grinning and showing off his edged teeth to his potential victims. His desires were running wild; he was enjoying this far too much. The thief ripped out the driver's door and dragged the screaming man further into the mountains before he did what he had once thought as unthinkable: he killed the man by biting down into the throat, severing all blood flow to the brain. The rush was undeniable, the Booker relived the feeling Shawn had given him that fateful night while he devoured his victim's legs and abdomen. The massacre was uninhibited and savage, Booker had to let his body take control...just this once. Once he was finished, the thief felt much better, enough to try and do one thing he had always envied his familiar: flight.
"Wait, how the hell do you float, let alone fly?" the Booker was stumped but shrugged; he was full.
(ooc: I'll let the_booker write the second kill since she knows him better and I have been procrastinating on my last exam like hell)
Author: penguinfighter
Pairing: Shawn/Booker
Word Count: 937
Rating: R, gore
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: Blame the gallon-and-a-half of Coca-Cola and playing with the_booker , just a What if? situation story. Small cameo of TrueBlood drinks LOL, continuing from Breathing
Carefully, Shawn withdrew the intravenous tubing from the refreshed thief and observed how the skin grew back over the small wounds. Those blue eyes were so full of life, quite contrary to just five minutes ago, where they seemed to be ticking down to the last breath. Never in his life did Spencer think he'd do this to a fellow human being, not even his best friend. But the Booker had much left to live...
After getting dressed with clothes Shawn had swiped from a nearby store (it was 4:30 in the morning, who'd notice?), the Booker followed his familiar to an abandoned warehouse complex. The fake psychic dragged the recovering alcoholic inside and tossed him against the wall. "Where the fuck am I?" the wife-beater yelled, obviously pissed. Shawn swooped in to the man with the most insincere grin he could muster and said, "See that man there? He's just come out of his deathbed and he's really hungry so let's make this easier and keep quiet, okay?"
The Booker looked positively ravenous but hesitated to kill, something the pseudo-psychic found adorable. So to ease the learning pains, Shawn swiped the abuser's head clean off his shoulders and caught the body before it touched the ground. "Why do we need to eat this? Is there any other way?" Carlton had to ask while he knelt down, his new body shuddering at the smell of flesh. "TrueBlood but that only helps curb the immediate cravings with taste," Shawn replied matter-of-factly as he ripped out an arm, bit down on the muscle on the forearm and gave the thief the meatier portion.
The look on both their faces was the same: Maybe this was a mistake. But once Carlton bit into the flesh for the first time, Shawn saw a spark of security; he'd be all right. As they fed, Shawn quickly pointed out what organs the Booker could eat and what they did to his body. "Always try to save up some leftovers in case you get hungry in a flight," Spencer explained as he lifted the liver, split it into two halves and stored it in a jar he labeled "Booky".
Instantly, Booker felt his body warm up, feeling so much better he could almost jump. "That's your body reconstructing itself," Shawn commenting with a smile before the thief surprised him with a bloody kiss. "This feels so amazing," Booker said between euphoria-induced lip locks. "Yeah, then there's the sex drive on steroids to deal with but it wears off once you've had a couple of meals," Spencer laughed; he'd been in that same position barely a year ago. "Wha?" the art thief managed to ask, looking at the fellow demon like he had a bug. "You're going to be fucking around like Viagra-fed bunnies on the mating season from hell for the next couple of days," Spencer shrugged; it wasn't a side effect he didn't mind.
"Oh wow, guess I'm going to be hopping clubs for a while, pardon the bunny joke," the thief immediately blushed and removed himself from his familiar. Then the inevitable question arose as they concluded their meal. "How do you get rid of the guilt?" Booker inquired as he saw his eyes switch back to their normal light-blue and round irises. Shawn sighed when he replied, "You never do," before disappearing into the wee hours of the morning. He left a note for the newborn demon that read, "Any time you feel lost, head to Psych; I'll save you a pineapple smoothie...Children are ALWAYS a no-no". "He wants me to learn on my own...but I don't know if I can..." Booker said to himself, finally realizing what he had done to himself.
Shawn had neglected to tell the Booker the devastating crash he would feel after not feeding for a while. The thief felt languid, depraved of life as his body sweat and ached for fresh meat. The jar the fake psychic had spared him was painfully empty; he had to hunt, whether he wanted to or not. Eating some raw sirloin eased the hunger for a bit as he prowled the Austrian alleyways, looking for any idiot that stayed up past sensible hours.
Booker finally found his first victim in a brothel: a man soliciting for sex who reeked of other people's blood. His slit eyes, as he found out, allowed for a much better night vision as he trailed the man and his paid date into a car. He also discovered two other perks to his body: speed and strength while jumping onto a truck and chasing them into an isolated part of the Vienna countryside.
The Booker landed on all fours on top of the car's engine hood, grinning and showing off his edged teeth to his potential victims. His desires were running wild; he was enjoying this far too much. The thief ripped out the driver's door and dragged the screaming man further into the mountains before he did what he had once thought as unthinkable: he killed the man by biting down into the throat, severing all blood flow to the brain. The rush was undeniable, the Booker relived the feeling Shawn had given him that fateful night while he devoured his victim's legs and abdomen. The massacre was uninhibited and savage, Booker had to let his body take control...just this once. Once he was finished, the thief felt much better, enough to try and do one thing he had always envied his familiar: flight.
"Wait, how the hell do you float, let alone fly?" the Booker was stumped but shrugged; he was full.
(ooc: I'll let the_booker write the second kill since she knows him better and I have been procrastinating on my last exam like hell)