Fuel to the Fire
When I got to a certain point in Demons with Angel Wings, Wake suddenly had a lighter. It seemed like a very Wake thing for him to own, but I've always believed that, in my world, vampires burn. To a vampire, it would be like carrying around a pocket full of acid - which is fine, because that is also a very Wake thing to do, but it seemed like there had to be a story behind the lighter. A reason he realised that fire was something worth owning. So, once I'd finished the novel, since I'd already decided I wanted to write short stories to go with it, I wrote this.
I've been referring to it as 'the story where Wake discovers fire is awesome.'
Title: Fuel to the Fire
Characters: Henry, Wake
Warnings: Wake, to whom everything is a sexual innuendo
Summary: Wake wanted a little action; unfortunately, Wake tends to get what he wants, which might be why they're now being held prisoner in a walk in freezer.
It was the dripping, really, that was making this unpleasant.
The dark was not a problem, obviously, and to be honest he didn't even know what cold was; even the fact that the floor was hard, wet, and , let's not split hairs here, just plain uncomfortable was more or less ignorable - he'd slept on worse. That was one thing he could say for certain, in his life now, since leaving home; he'd always slept on worse. He dreaded the day he encountered worse than worse.
But, the dripping; the dripping was getting on his nerves.
It wasn't a steady, rhythmic dripping, where he could count the seconds and be sure when the next drip was coming, the kind of dripping that could lull you into sleep; oh, no, that would be far too decent and predictable. This was irregular, a quick burst of tiny droplets hitting all at once and then silence for several long, drawn out seconds as the water gathered into a larger drop, before falling and hitting the hard floor with a splash. It was the damned inconsistency of it, setting his teeth on edge.
Well, that and the impressive metal door, but honestly, it was mostly the dripping.
“Just so you know,” he said out loud, voice idle and smooth as silk. “I'm considering this to be your fault, naturally.”
“I had assumed.” Henry said dryly from his corner, huddled against the wall with his eyes closed - his eyes closed because, apparently, it was easier to be in the dark if he couldn't see anything.
“Just letting you know, dear.” Wake replied easily, leaning back against the wall behind him in a graceful sprawl. Although the freezer was, by its very nature, damp, and his jacket and hair were already well on the way to being soaked through and stiff from the cold, he still managed to look elegant and neat; Henry, on the other hand, looked a fucking mess, wet curls sticking to his forehead and frozen drops of blood clinging to his arm where he'd scratched it being thrown to the floor - the cut had healed instantly, of course, but a few drops had managed to escape and cling to the skin.
“I get it.” Henry snapped, bringing his slumped head up like he was glaring, though his eyes remained closed. “You can be quiet now.”
“Hmm...” Wake pondered that, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “No. Or, alternatively, make me, dollface.”
Henry didn't say anything, refusing to rise to the bait; Wake pouted to himself. Damn. And here he'd been hoping for a little light entertainment to break up the tedium of being held prisoner in a walk in freezer.
It had started out as a perfectly ordinary, perfectly boring night; Henry had been reluctant, lately, to... well, to do anything, especially feed. Feeding in general had become more dangerous for vampires, now that the humans were all just a little better organised, and Wake was feeling fed up of having to drag Henry out and practically hold his head to some poor sod's neck in order to get him to drink. The boy was... strange, just recently; he'd always been a little strange, of course, but he was getting worse and worse, seeing things behind every doorway and in every shadow, refusing to sleep and then babbling on about nightmares following him to the waking world... it was getting to be more than Wake knew how to deal with. More than Wake was willing to deal with, if he was being brutally honest. He felt like he'd put up with a lot of shit over the past seventy years or so, all told, but there had to be a limit, and maybe it was drawing close...
But anyway, yes, tonight had been perfectly normal, painfully so; Wake had almost wanted a little action.
Which was probably why they were currently in a freezer. Wake did always get what he wanted, after all.
“Wake,” Henry said slowly, as if this were just occurring to him, “do you think those people know we won't freeze to death in here?” Wake groaned and rolled his eyes, holding up one hand to his forehead dramatically.
“They're human mobsters, Henry.” He pointed out sarcastically. “I would be moderately surprised if they knew how to tie their shoes.”
Ah, yes, mobsters; not a new invention, by any stretch, not really, but oddly popular just lately. On a certain level, Wake approved of all the mindless violence and power games and posturing; these were traits near and dear to his own black heart, and he could certainly relate. But the idiots at entry level, these boring, uncreative sadists... he had really no interest or tolerance for them at all. They were pathetic little sheep, following along behind the big bad mother duck... and now he was mixing his animal metaphors. Troubling. Maybe the cold was getting to him.
“Are sheep anything like ducks?” He said out loud; Henry tilted his head at him in confusion, since he couldn't blink. “No, never mind, don't answer that.”
Of course, it wasn't quite like mobsters was the right word; no, that golden age of sleek brutality and, most importantly creativity, was long gone. These days it was barely a step above the street gangs - street gangs annoyed Wake, because they were so pathetically human, with all that pride and entitlement and the silly fights over who is better than who, territory and mods and rockers and God the sheer banality of it all made him want to scream.
“You may want to... well, the opposite of blinking.” He told Henry lightly. “Icicles are forming on your eyelids.” He gestured idly, and then paused, looking closely for a second. “It's... not a bad look on you, actually.”
Henry's eyes flickered open and then closed again in the space of a second, shattering the thin layer of frost that had gathered on his eyelids. Though they could not freeze to death, vampires don't produce much heat on their own; if they kept moving, they'd keep away the ice and the frost, but Henry was frustratingly dedicated to letting a shell of ice build up around him. Stupid bastard was always playing the martyr to his own damn psychosis. Wake looked around himself, searching without any real intent for something to throw.
“Sheep are nothing like ducks.”
“I know that, that's why I told you not to answer that.” Wake snapped back, put out by the lack of readily available projectiles. “Shut up.”
“Why would you think sheep are like ducks?” Henry persisted, smiling a little; Wake considered the merits of removing his shoe to throw at the man. “Sheep are nothing like ducks at all.”
“Did I not just say I know that?”
There was banging somewhere outside the door; Wake let himself relax into a carefully engineered slump, like he was unconscious. Henry, of course, didn't need to move to look that way. In the moments before the heavy door clanged open, Wake had a sudden, irrational moment of belief that Henry had just quietly died, and he hadn't noticed; more worrying than the thought, at least to his own mind, was the flood of emotion - anger, sadness, remorse. Tasted bitter, hateful, made him feel sick - at himself, more than anything else. It was just a stupid -
The door opened, two men with more muscles than sense entering, dragging a body behind them. Wake's moment of emotional panic vanished, and he narrowed his eyes to half closed slits, watching as they pulled the man - dead, if Wake was any judge, which he was, and a very good one - into the middle of the freezing room, letting him drop to the ground with a cold thump.
“What about those two?” The slightly larger of the two men asked of his partner; this second man crossed over to Wake, shoving two fingers against his neck roughly. Wake resisted the urge to smirk; at this room temperature, his already sluggish heart would have slowed even further. A pulse would be almost impossible to detect, unless you were some kind of trained medical professional; judging by the state of this man's nails, Wake really rather doubted that.
“This one's dead.” He reported, moving away. “What about that one?” The first, slightly larger, man poked Henry with one foot; tired and dull at the best of times, now the young vampire simply slumped to the side, believably boneless.
“Yeah.” He agreed. “They didn't last long.”
His friend scoffed.
“Hey, look at 'em.” He gestured to the limp form of Henry. “Skinny fucks got nothing to keep them warm.”
“s'true.” The other sniffed, rubbing his arms. “Damn cold in here. Let's go.”
As they left, slamming the door behind them, Wake stretched lazily, pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to the dead body as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do. As he crouched over the body, Henry levered himself back up to sitting, his eyes cracking open.
“What are you-”
“Checking his pockets.” Wake cut in, reaching into the man's jacket. “What else?”
“Why? Do you expect him to have the key on him?” Henry grumbled sarcastically; Wake started to roll his eyes, and then froze, frowning. “... does he have the key on him?”
Wake didn't say anything, pulling his hand out of the jacket, fingers closed over the small object that had caught his attention. Henry leaned over to try and see what was happening.
“Wake? What is it?” He was fairly sure if couldn't actually be a key - walk in freezers don't have keys, they only open from the outside. But whatever it was, it had got Wake thinking, and that had the potential to be a very bad thing. “Wake?”
“I really shouldn't.” Wake flexed his fingers around the little metal rectangle in his hand, feeling the weight of it. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to drop it, toss it - just get it out of his hand. The thing was poison, deadly to vampires. And yet... he held up the lighter, running a curious finger over the engraved metal. What harm could it really do?
Henry blinked.
“Maybe you should put that down.” He suggested blandly; for some reason, that instinctive vampire fear of fire had never been a problem for him like it had for Wake. Still, he was intellectually aware that fire would kill them both faster than almost anything - faster than it would kill humans - and he still had enough self-preservation to be slightly wary. And Wake armed with something that dangerous was...
“I know, Henry.” Wake mumbled, still staring. “But maybe...” He fumbled with the little metal object, flipping the top open. “I mean, it's only a tiny flame. And it's cold in here.”
“We don't feel the cold.” Henry reasoned, wondering if it would maybe be a good idea to make a grab for the thing. “Put it down.”
“Oh, no no no, dollface, now is my turn to be crazy.” Wake grinned, waving his free hand at Henry dismissively. “How much damage can I do with a tiny little lighter? Don't be such a pansy.”
Henry scowled, dragging himself to his feet and practically stalking away from his sire, looking out of the frosted over window in the door; it was hard to see, and it wasn't like he could warm a clear spot with his breath. But as far as he could tell, there was no one standing guard outside. If they could just get the door open...
Vampires are strong - even vampires as thin and weak as Henry are strong - but with the ice around the door effectively sealing it shut, there wasn't anything to hold onto; and without any grip, they'd never get it open. But... maybe...
“Is there anything in here to burn?” He asked Wake idly; Wake looked up from his study of the lighter, to the door, and then grinned.
“Aw, look at that, he had a clever idea.” He cooed, beginning to strip off the dead guy's jacket. “I'm so proud of you, baby. Here, we'll burn this.” He waved the jacket. “The man had no taste, anyway.” He tossed the offending garment at Henry, who just barely snatched a corner, fumbling with both hands to keep hold of it. Wake sighed and rolled his eyes, giving the dead guy's pockets one last check before joining his fledgling at the door. Taking the jacket back before Henry could somehow to manage to, oh, God knows, strangle himself with it by mistake, Wake balled the thing up into a makeshift torch, wedging at the top of the door, between a lump of ice and the low ceiling, one sleeve hanging down, a bit like a fuse. Hopefully they'd be able to melt off the worst of the ice like this; if not, well, the dead guy had more clothes that could be stolen. Wasn't like he was going to freeze any time soon.
Wake turned his attention to his brand new lighter, flicking open the top and frowning at it thoughtfully.
“I have no idea how to work these things.” He realised. “How the fuck do you turn it on? Is there a button?”
Henry made an impatient sound, snatched the little object from Wake's hand and ran his thumb nervously over the wheel, flinching and almost dropping it when it caught and lit. Wake gently extracted the lighter from Henry's shaking hands.
“Not bad.” He admitted grudgingly. “Maybe all that insane reading and, what is it...? People watching,” he muttered the phrase with utter disdain, “has its advantages.”
Henry didn't say anything, too used to Wake's idle disdain for everything and anything to take much offence. Mercurial as Wake was, he could hate something one day and love it the next with not a trace of irony. Sometimes Henry suspected he did it just to annoy; that would be very typical of the elder vampire now, wouldn't it. He scowled to himself as Wake lit the lighter again, reaching up to light the tasteless jacket on fire and take a stuttering step back because... oh...
As the fire caught on the fabric it crawled, dancing up the hanging sleeve, twisting and glowing; Wake's stale breath caught in his throat as he followed it with green eyes, entranced. He could feel the warmth of it, cutting through the dead cold of the freezer and his own skin, painting him with sunlight as it spread and cast a greater glow. When the first edge of flame caught the main body of the jacket it went up with an audible rush of oxygen, bathing the area around the door in pale yellow light; out of the corner of his eye, Wake saw Henry, pale skin glowing in the firelight, looking even more like an angel than he already did. Fire, Wake realised with a sudden electric thrill, made everything better. What was there to be afraid of? Oh, sure, it could kill him in under a minute but, oh, wouldn't it be incredible while it lasted? It was warm, a dry, prickly heat that made Wake's skin tingle, made him want to shiver. To die like that, surrounded in the light, and the warmth...
A drop of water peeled off of the ice and splashed against the cold concrete of the floor, jolting Wake out of his thoughts just as surely as if it had jolted him from his skin. He took another step back, hooking one hand on Henry's shoulder and dragging him back, too. Wouldn't do for the little idiot to get fried.
“Look at that, gorgeous, it's actually working. I for one am stunned by this brainwave of yours.” He forced his eyes away from the flickering flame to regard Henry thoughtfully, dropping the lighter thoughtlessly into his pocket. “That is really you, right, beautiful?” Henry punched him in the shoulder; it didn't hurt much, and Wake grinned, cupping Henry's face in both hands. “Oh, it's you. I'm thrilled.”
“Are you sure it's you?” Henry muttered, shoving his sire's hands away. “We've been locked in here for hours and you haven't suggested sex yet.”
Wake made a sound of mock horror, placing one hand delicately over his mouth.
“You're right!” He gasped. “Do you think there's something wrong with me? And, oh, was that an offer?” Henry just rolled his eyes and punched him again. “Yeah, that was an offer.”
Henry's look of mild disgust was cut short by a wet thump as the last of the ice at the top of the door melted enough for the burning jacket to drop, landing in the cold puddle on the floor; it burned for a few moments more before fizzling out with a spine tingling hiss. Moving closer and reaching up, Wake felt around the top of the door; the seal of ice there was definitely thinner, now, he might be able to get a grip on the frame... he pushed at the slippery ice, distaste on his features, until the friction from his fingers melted the last thin coating, and his skin met the cold metal of the door. Ah, victory, how sweet it could be.
“Sorry, dollface, that sex will have to wait, I'm out of here.” Digging his fingers into the seam where door met wall, he wrinkled his nose and tugged, just getting a feel for it; the ice wasn't enough to keep the door from opening, obviously, but there was probably a lock... Yup, that thing was sturdy. No human would ever get out of here without a couple of spare hours and a blow torch. “Give me a hand, Henry?” He gestured to the thin gap between his body and the door, leering suggestively; rolling his eyes, Henry wriggled into the gap, reaching up.
Henry, a half inch or so shorter than his sire, had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the bottom of the cleared patch - a fact that gave Wake the giggles for a few mad moments before the boy got a grip, working his thin, nail bitten fingers into the groove.
“On three?” He suggested sheepishly; Wake shrugged.
“It works in stories.” He grinned. “Hey, Henry?”
“Three?” Henry couldn't quite stop the smile from invading his face like a long lost stranger; Wake laughed, stepping a little closer to the door and coincidentally pressing just a little closer to Henry's stick thin form.
“Three.” He confirmed, tugging on the door, feeling Henry's body tense under him as he, too, pulled. For a second the door held stubborn and strong; then the metal under their hands buckled, creating a greater gap to get their hands into, that in turn providing better leverage.
The door was a strong, sturdy, impressive affair, but in the battle between door and vampire, there was a clear and obvious winner.
The air in the warehouse outside the freezer - who, Wake pondered for a split, fleeting second, needs a freezer in their warehouse - could hardly be called warm, and yet, after the sub-zero temperatures inside, it hit like the first gust of heat from an open oven door. Wake could feel the rather unpleasant crawling sensation of his body temperature rising quickly, warmed by the fresh air and lack of ice; next to him, Henry shuddered, obviously experiencing the same. He turned to his fledgling, meaning to make some sarcastic comment, only to catch the sight of thin crimson on Henry's fingertips; the metal of the door must have bitten in, breaking skin, drawing out precious blood. He snatched at the hand, smearing the few cold drops, pulling the fingers into his mouth without thinking, sucking them clean, tongue probing and checking at the healed skin underneath out of pure paranoia. Henry didn't resist, or complain, or even ask what he was doing, simply stood there placidly, his free hand curled around Wake's wrist. After a moment Wake released him, his breath ever so slightly ragged, licking his lips.
They stared at each other, eyes locked, green and brown, dancing an all too familiar dance that got ever closer and closer to the surface, drawn in and drawing in in a dangerous feedback loop that was probably, one day, going to drag them both to hell.
Today might have been that day, were it not for the metal flask that went clanging to the floor in pure shock, as the men guarding the freezer - again, freezer? In a warehouse? - watched in utter terror as the two skinny bastards they were sure had been dead not half an hour ago stood before them, having just ripped a thick metal door clean out of the wall. This was not good.
Wake waved.
“We'll pay for the door.” He offered, cheerful as ever. “And when I say 'pay for the door', I mean 'you should run really fucking fast now'.”
The two men looked at their guns, sitting on the card table between them; then they looked back at the two vampires, standing side by side, Henry's fingers still curled so delicately around Wake's wrist.
They ran.
“You let them go.” Henry muttered, surprised; he was even more surprised when Wake shrugged, shifting his hand so it slipped into Henry's, squeezing abnormally tight, even for him.
“I'm not hungry.”
“You're not...” Henry frowned minutely. “Wake, are you alright?”
Wake let out a breathy sigh, and then smiled his most dazzling smile.
“Fan-fucking-tastic, beautiful. Thinking about the many possible applications of my shiny new lighter.”
“Wake-”
“We should get candles.”
“Wake.” Henry brought his free hand up to Wake's face; the touch was so rare from his reticent fledgling that Wake shut up. “What's wrong, you're acting...” He shook his head; Wake made a decision, closing the gap between them and kissing him soundly, that slick, smooth slide of pressure that was becoming second nature to them both. When they broke apart, Wake rested their foreheads together, a dazed little smile on his face. “What?”
“You look beautiful in firelight, Henry.”
They could never untangle themselves from each other, but they stood apart anyway, and, hand in hand, went home to explore the possibilities of adding ever more fuel to their dangerous, desperate fire.
I've been referring to it as 'the story where Wake discovers fire is awesome.'
Title: Fuel to the Fire
Characters: Henry, Wake
Warnings: Wake, to whom everything is a sexual innuendo
Summary: Wake wanted a little action; unfortunately, Wake tends to get what he wants, which might be why they're now being held prisoner in a walk in freezer.
It was the dripping, really, that was making this unpleasant.
The dark was not a problem, obviously, and to be honest he didn't even know what cold was; even the fact that the floor was hard, wet, and , let's not split hairs here, just plain uncomfortable was more or less ignorable - he'd slept on worse. That was one thing he could say for certain, in his life now, since leaving home; he'd always slept on worse. He dreaded the day he encountered worse than worse.
But, the dripping; the dripping was getting on his nerves.
It wasn't a steady, rhythmic dripping, where he could count the seconds and be sure when the next drip was coming, the kind of dripping that could lull you into sleep; oh, no, that would be far too decent and predictable. This was irregular, a quick burst of tiny droplets hitting all at once and then silence for several long, drawn out seconds as the water gathered into a larger drop, before falling and hitting the hard floor with a splash. It was the damned inconsistency of it, setting his teeth on edge.
Well, that and the impressive metal door, but honestly, it was mostly the dripping.
“Just so you know,” he said out loud, voice idle and smooth as silk. “I'm considering this to be your fault, naturally.”
“I had assumed.” Henry said dryly from his corner, huddled against the wall with his eyes closed - his eyes closed because, apparently, it was easier to be in the dark if he couldn't see anything.
“Just letting you know, dear.” Wake replied easily, leaning back against the wall behind him in a graceful sprawl. Although the freezer was, by its very nature, damp, and his jacket and hair were already well on the way to being soaked through and stiff from the cold, he still managed to look elegant and neat; Henry, on the other hand, looked a fucking mess, wet curls sticking to his forehead and frozen drops of blood clinging to his arm where he'd scratched it being thrown to the floor - the cut had healed instantly, of course, but a few drops had managed to escape and cling to the skin.
“I get it.” Henry snapped, bringing his slumped head up like he was glaring, though his eyes remained closed. “You can be quiet now.”
“Hmm...” Wake pondered that, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “No. Or, alternatively, make me, dollface.”
Henry didn't say anything, refusing to rise to the bait; Wake pouted to himself. Damn. And here he'd been hoping for a little light entertainment to break up the tedium of being held prisoner in a walk in freezer.
It had started out as a perfectly ordinary, perfectly boring night; Henry had been reluctant, lately, to... well, to do anything, especially feed. Feeding in general had become more dangerous for vampires, now that the humans were all just a little better organised, and Wake was feeling fed up of having to drag Henry out and practically hold his head to some poor sod's neck in order to get him to drink. The boy was... strange, just recently; he'd always been a little strange, of course, but he was getting worse and worse, seeing things behind every doorway and in every shadow, refusing to sleep and then babbling on about nightmares following him to the waking world... it was getting to be more than Wake knew how to deal with. More than Wake was willing to deal with, if he was being brutally honest. He felt like he'd put up with a lot of shit over the past seventy years or so, all told, but there had to be a limit, and maybe it was drawing close...
But anyway, yes, tonight had been perfectly normal, painfully so; Wake had almost wanted a little action.
Which was probably why they were currently in a freezer. Wake did always get what he wanted, after all.
“Wake,” Henry said slowly, as if this were just occurring to him, “do you think those people know we won't freeze to death in here?” Wake groaned and rolled his eyes, holding up one hand to his forehead dramatically.
“They're human mobsters, Henry.” He pointed out sarcastically. “I would be moderately surprised if they knew how to tie their shoes.”
Ah, yes, mobsters; not a new invention, by any stretch, not really, but oddly popular just lately. On a certain level, Wake approved of all the mindless violence and power games and posturing; these were traits near and dear to his own black heart, and he could certainly relate. But the idiots at entry level, these boring, uncreative sadists... he had really no interest or tolerance for them at all. They were pathetic little sheep, following along behind the big bad mother duck... and now he was mixing his animal metaphors. Troubling. Maybe the cold was getting to him.
“Are sheep anything like ducks?” He said out loud; Henry tilted his head at him in confusion, since he couldn't blink. “No, never mind, don't answer that.”
Of course, it wasn't quite like mobsters was the right word; no, that golden age of sleek brutality and, most importantly creativity, was long gone. These days it was barely a step above the street gangs - street gangs annoyed Wake, because they were so pathetically human, with all that pride and entitlement and the silly fights over who is better than who, territory and mods and rockers and God the sheer banality of it all made him want to scream.
“You may want to... well, the opposite of blinking.” He told Henry lightly. “Icicles are forming on your eyelids.” He gestured idly, and then paused, looking closely for a second. “It's... not a bad look on you, actually.”
Henry's eyes flickered open and then closed again in the space of a second, shattering the thin layer of frost that had gathered on his eyelids. Though they could not freeze to death, vampires don't produce much heat on their own; if they kept moving, they'd keep away the ice and the frost, but Henry was frustratingly dedicated to letting a shell of ice build up around him. Stupid bastard was always playing the martyr to his own damn psychosis. Wake looked around himself, searching without any real intent for something to throw.
“Sheep are nothing like ducks.”
“I know that, that's why I told you not to answer that.” Wake snapped back, put out by the lack of readily available projectiles. “Shut up.”
“Why would you think sheep are like ducks?” Henry persisted, smiling a little; Wake considered the merits of removing his shoe to throw at the man. “Sheep are nothing like ducks at all.”
“Did I not just say I know that?”
There was banging somewhere outside the door; Wake let himself relax into a carefully engineered slump, like he was unconscious. Henry, of course, didn't need to move to look that way. In the moments before the heavy door clanged open, Wake had a sudden, irrational moment of belief that Henry had just quietly died, and he hadn't noticed; more worrying than the thought, at least to his own mind, was the flood of emotion - anger, sadness, remorse. Tasted bitter, hateful, made him feel sick - at himself, more than anything else. It was just a stupid -
The door opened, two men with more muscles than sense entering, dragging a body behind them. Wake's moment of emotional panic vanished, and he narrowed his eyes to half closed slits, watching as they pulled the man - dead, if Wake was any judge, which he was, and a very good one - into the middle of the freezing room, letting him drop to the ground with a cold thump.
“What about those two?” The slightly larger of the two men asked of his partner; this second man crossed over to Wake, shoving two fingers against his neck roughly. Wake resisted the urge to smirk; at this room temperature, his already sluggish heart would have slowed even further. A pulse would be almost impossible to detect, unless you were some kind of trained medical professional; judging by the state of this man's nails, Wake really rather doubted that.
“This one's dead.” He reported, moving away. “What about that one?” The first, slightly larger, man poked Henry with one foot; tired and dull at the best of times, now the young vampire simply slumped to the side, believably boneless.
“Yeah.” He agreed. “They didn't last long.”
His friend scoffed.
“Hey, look at 'em.” He gestured to the limp form of Henry. “Skinny fucks got nothing to keep them warm.”
“s'true.” The other sniffed, rubbing his arms. “Damn cold in here. Let's go.”
As they left, slamming the door behind them, Wake stretched lazily, pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to the dead body as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do. As he crouched over the body, Henry levered himself back up to sitting, his eyes cracking open.
“What are you-”
“Checking his pockets.” Wake cut in, reaching into the man's jacket. “What else?”
“Why? Do you expect him to have the key on him?” Henry grumbled sarcastically; Wake started to roll his eyes, and then froze, frowning. “... does he have the key on him?”
Wake didn't say anything, pulling his hand out of the jacket, fingers closed over the small object that had caught his attention. Henry leaned over to try and see what was happening.
“Wake? What is it?” He was fairly sure if couldn't actually be a key - walk in freezers don't have keys, they only open from the outside. But whatever it was, it had got Wake thinking, and that had the potential to be a very bad thing. “Wake?”
“I really shouldn't.” Wake flexed his fingers around the little metal rectangle in his hand, feeling the weight of it. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to drop it, toss it - just get it out of his hand. The thing was poison, deadly to vampires. And yet... he held up the lighter, running a curious finger over the engraved metal. What harm could it really do?
Henry blinked.
“Maybe you should put that down.” He suggested blandly; for some reason, that instinctive vampire fear of fire had never been a problem for him like it had for Wake. Still, he was intellectually aware that fire would kill them both faster than almost anything - faster than it would kill humans - and he still had enough self-preservation to be slightly wary. And Wake armed with something that dangerous was...
“I know, Henry.” Wake mumbled, still staring. “But maybe...” He fumbled with the little metal object, flipping the top open. “I mean, it's only a tiny flame. And it's cold in here.”
“We don't feel the cold.” Henry reasoned, wondering if it would maybe be a good idea to make a grab for the thing. “Put it down.”
“Oh, no no no, dollface, now is my turn to be crazy.” Wake grinned, waving his free hand at Henry dismissively. “How much damage can I do with a tiny little lighter? Don't be such a pansy.”
Henry scowled, dragging himself to his feet and practically stalking away from his sire, looking out of the frosted over window in the door; it was hard to see, and it wasn't like he could warm a clear spot with his breath. But as far as he could tell, there was no one standing guard outside. If they could just get the door open...
Vampires are strong - even vampires as thin and weak as Henry are strong - but with the ice around the door effectively sealing it shut, there wasn't anything to hold onto; and without any grip, they'd never get it open. But... maybe...
“Is there anything in here to burn?” He asked Wake idly; Wake looked up from his study of the lighter, to the door, and then grinned.
“Aw, look at that, he had a clever idea.” He cooed, beginning to strip off the dead guy's jacket. “I'm so proud of you, baby. Here, we'll burn this.” He waved the jacket. “The man had no taste, anyway.” He tossed the offending garment at Henry, who just barely snatched a corner, fumbling with both hands to keep hold of it. Wake sighed and rolled his eyes, giving the dead guy's pockets one last check before joining his fledgling at the door. Taking the jacket back before Henry could somehow to manage to, oh, God knows, strangle himself with it by mistake, Wake balled the thing up into a makeshift torch, wedging at the top of the door, between a lump of ice and the low ceiling, one sleeve hanging down, a bit like a fuse. Hopefully they'd be able to melt off the worst of the ice like this; if not, well, the dead guy had more clothes that could be stolen. Wasn't like he was going to freeze any time soon.
Wake turned his attention to his brand new lighter, flicking open the top and frowning at it thoughtfully.
“I have no idea how to work these things.” He realised. “How the fuck do you turn it on? Is there a button?”
Henry made an impatient sound, snatched the little object from Wake's hand and ran his thumb nervously over the wheel, flinching and almost dropping it when it caught and lit. Wake gently extracted the lighter from Henry's shaking hands.
“Not bad.” He admitted grudgingly. “Maybe all that insane reading and, what is it...? People watching,” he muttered the phrase with utter disdain, “has its advantages.”
Henry didn't say anything, too used to Wake's idle disdain for everything and anything to take much offence. Mercurial as Wake was, he could hate something one day and love it the next with not a trace of irony. Sometimes Henry suspected he did it just to annoy; that would be very typical of the elder vampire now, wouldn't it. He scowled to himself as Wake lit the lighter again, reaching up to light the tasteless jacket on fire and take a stuttering step back because... oh...
As the fire caught on the fabric it crawled, dancing up the hanging sleeve, twisting and glowing; Wake's stale breath caught in his throat as he followed it with green eyes, entranced. He could feel the warmth of it, cutting through the dead cold of the freezer and his own skin, painting him with sunlight as it spread and cast a greater glow. When the first edge of flame caught the main body of the jacket it went up with an audible rush of oxygen, bathing the area around the door in pale yellow light; out of the corner of his eye, Wake saw Henry, pale skin glowing in the firelight, looking even more like an angel than he already did. Fire, Wake realised with a sudden electric thrill, made everything better. What was there to be afraid of? Oh, sure, it could kill him in under a minute but, oh, wouldn't it be incredible while it lasted? It was warm, a dry, prickly heat that made Wake's skin tingle, made him want to shiver. To die like that, surrounded in the light, and the warmth...
A drop of water peeled off of the ice and splashed against the cold concrete of the floor, jolting Wake out of his thoughts just as surely as if it had jolted him from his skin. He took another step back, hooking one hand on Henry's shoulder and dragging him back, too. Wouldn't do for the little idiot to get fried.
“Look at that, gorgeous, it's actually working. I for one am stunned by this brainwave of yours.” He forced his eyes away from the flickering flame to regard Henry thoughtfully, dropping the lighter thoughtlessly into his pocket. “That is really you, right, beautiful?” Henry punched him in the shoulder; it didn't hurt much, and Wake grinned, cupping Henry's face in both hands. “Oh, it's you. I'm thrilled.”
“Are you sure it's you?” Henry muttered, shoving his sire's hands away. “We've been locked in here for hours and you haven't suggested sex yet.”
Wake made a sound of mock horror, placing one hand delicately over his mouth.
“You're right!” He gasped. “Do you think there's something wrong with me? And, oh, was that an offer?” Henry just rolled his eyes and punched him again. “Yeah, that was an offer.”
Henry's look of mild disgust was cut short by a wet thump as the last of the ice at the top of the door melted enough for the burning jacket to drop, landing in the cold puddle on the floor; it burned for a few moments more before fizzling out with a spine tingling hiss. Moving closer and reaching up, Wake felt around the top of the door; the seal of ice there was definitely thinner, now, he might be able to get a grip on the frame... he pushed at the slippery ice, distaste on his features, until the friction from his fingers melted the last thin coating, and his skin met the cold metal of the door. Ah, victory, how sweet it could be.
“Sorry, dollface, that sex will have to wait, I'm out of here.” Digging his fingers into the seam where door met wall, he wrinkled his nose and tugged, just getting a feel for it; the ice wasn't enough to keep the door from opening, obviously, but there was probably a lock... Yup, that thing was sturdy. No human would ever get out of here without a couple of spare hours and a blow torch. “Give me a hand, Henry?” He gestured to the thin gap between his body and the door, leering suggestively; rolling his eyes, Henry wriggled into the gap, reaching up.
Henry, a half inch or so shorter than his sire, had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the bottom of the cleared patch - a fact that gave Wake the giggles for a few mad moments before the boy got a grip, working his thin, nail bitten fingers into the groove.
“On three?” He suggested sheepishly; Wake shrugged.
“It works in stories.” He grinned. “Hey, Henry?”
“Three?” Henry couldn't quite stop the smile from invading his face like a long lost stranger; Wake laughed, stepping a little closer to the door and coincidentally pressing just a little closer to Henry's stick thin form.
“Three.” He confirmed, tugging on the door, feeling Henry's body tense under him as he, too, pulled. For a second the door held stubborn and strong; then the metal under their hands buckled, creating a greater gap to get their hands into, that in turn providing better leverage.
The door was a strong, sturdy, impressive affair, but in the battle between door and vampire, there was a clear and obvious winner.
The air in the warehouse outside the freezer - who, Wake pondered for a split, fleeting second, needs a freezer in their warehouse - could hardly be called warm, and yet, after the sub-zero temperatures inside, it hit like the first gust of heat from an open oven door. Wake could feel the rather unpleasant crawling sensation of his body temperature rising quickly, warmed by the fresh air and lack of ice; next to him, Henry shuddered, obviously experiencing the same. He turned to his fledgling, meaning to make some sarcastic comment, only to catch the sight of thin crimson on Henry's fingertips; the metal of the door must have bitten in, breaking skin, drawing out precious blood. He snatched at the hand, smearing the few cold drops, pulling the fingers into his mouth without thinking, sucking them clean, tongue probing and checking at the healed skin underneath out of pure paranoia. Henry didn't resist, or complain, or even ask what he was doing, simply stood there placidly, his free hand curled around Wake's wrist. After a moment Wake released him, his breath ever so slightly ragged, licking his lips.
They stared at each other, eyes locked, green and brown, dancing an all too familiar dance that got ever closer and closer to the surface, drawn in and drawing in in a dangerous feedback loop that was probably, one day, going to drag them both to hell.
Today might have been that day, were it not for the metal flask that went clanging to the floor in pure shock, as the men guarding the freezer - again, freezer? In a warehouse? - watched in utter terror as the two skinny bastards they were sure had been dead not half an hour ago stood before them, having just ripped a thick metal door clean out of the wall. This was not good.
Wake waved.
“We'll pay for the door.” He offered, cheerful as ever. “And when I say 'pay for the door', I mean 'you should run really fucking fast now'.”
The two men looked at their guns, sitting on the card table between them; then they looked back at the two vampires, standing side by side, Henry's fingers still curled so delicately around Wake's wrist.
They ran.
“You let them go.” Henry muttered, surprised; he was even more surprised when Wake shrugged, shifting his hand so it slipped into Henry's, squeezing abnormally tight, even for him.
“I'm not hungry.”
“You're not...” Henry frowned minutely. “Wake, are you alright?”
Wake let out a breathy sigh, and then smiled his most dazzling smile.
“Fan-fucking-tastic, beautiful. Thinking about the many possible applications of my shiny new lighter.”
“Wake-”
“We should get candles.”
“Wake.” Henry brought his free hand up to Wake's face; the touch was so rare from his reticent fledgling that Wake shut up. “What's wrong, you're acting...” He shook his head; Wake made a decision, closing the gap between them and kissing him soundly, that slick, smooth slide of pressure that was becoming second nature to them both. When they broke apart, Wake rested their foreheads together, a dazed little smile on his face. “What?”
“You look beautiful in firelight, Henry.”
They could never untangle themselves from each other, but they stood apart anyway, and, hand in hand, went home to explore the possibilities of adding ever more fuel to their dangerous, desperate fire.