All is Well: A Birthday Story
This might be one of the first Henry/Wake stories I ever wrote, for Dekaff's birthday last year because she loves our vampires as much as I do, and it occurred to me that Wake probably doesn't understand the concept of birthdays.
Where this comes in the chronology is up for debate - I personally like the idea that, even after losing most of his faith, Henry still hangs on to this one tradition, but I'm not going to set that in stone.
Spoken Version
Title: All is Well
Characters: Henry, Wake
Warnings: Awkward Henry and Wake with serious denial
Summary: The one where there is a church and Henry has angst
Night fell in a lazy, hazy purple; the stars were hidden behind heavy cloud, filling the world with darkness lit only by an inconsistent moon.
In front of a church, a vampire paced. Every so often he would quit his pacing, affect an annoyed look, glance down at his bare wrist with an impatient sigh, and then return, once more, to his pacing. It was clear from his demeanour that he was not only waiting for something, or someone, but that he rather wished he wasn't.
The whole crucifix-and-holy-water nonsense may be just that, nonsense, but churches have always unnerved Wake. Despite possessing not a shred of religious inclination, he still felt a vague sense of some almighty, disapproving fatherly figure, staring down at him and gently shaking his head as if to say, 'I'm not angry with you, Wake, but you have let me down.'
Definitely unnerving. He paused in his pacing again, this time to glance up at the foreboding façade of the church behind him, the architecture ornate and slightly sinister in the pale silver of the moon. At least the whiny little bastard hadn't dragged him inside this year.
In the distance, a clock rang out loud into the night; Wake felt quite pleased that he didn't jump or start or even flinch in surprise at the sound. Not even a twitch. He smirked smugly, counting the chimes.
“Nine o'clock,” he muttered out loud to himself, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. “And all is well.” He really missed town criers. They had always been such an interesting (and informative) diversionary tactic, and trying to kill them when they had such loud voices, and those bloody great bells, had proved to have a sort of challenge about it. It had been exciting, in a noisy kind of way. You just didn't get entertainment like that anymore.
“I'm done.”
If Wake did flinch, at the sudden sound of Henry's voice behind him, he hid it well with a quick straightening of his jacket. He was just finicky enough to pull it off; after all, he was always checking and rechecking his appearance. Not a crime to want to look your best.
“About time.” He grumbled, childishly. “I don't get what's such a big deal about today anyway.”
He really didn't, he realised, as he watched Henry glance down at his hands in silent contemplation - or maybe the boy was talking to the voices in his head again, who could tell? But he always went to church on this same day, every year, and Wake got dragged along too, because something about Henry could be very persuasive, at least where his sire was concerned.
Wake had just never bothered to ask why. He didn't have any burning desire to understand Henry, not at all, not even a little. He wasn't that kind of guy. Asking questions implied a depth of caring that was greater than anything he was willing to admit to. It implied more than just a sire/fledgeling relationship-with-benefits. It implied kindness and concern and all that sentimental bullshit.
“It's my birthday.”
Henry's voice was so soft, anyone less than a vampire would not have heard it at all.
Wake said nothing. He tugged on the edge of his jacket distractedly. Far away, a clock chimed. Half past nine. All is, at least, quiet. All is peaceful. It's difficult to say if all is well.
“Let's go eat,” Wake decided, after a long time standing in silence, straightening his jacket once again. Then, he grinned slyly, and added, “My treat.”
Henry mumbled something that Wake automatically took to be a reply in the positive. The younger vampire did not stop him from linking their arms together, though his body was slumped and limp and he dragged his feet. Wake didn't care.
“We could eat a drunk. Or two.” He mused. “And get really pissed.”
Two vampires walked away from the church, lit by the watery light of a silver moon, under the heavy shroud of a starless night.
After a length, one of them said:
“Vampires don't have birthdays.”
Ten of the clock, and all is well.
Where this comes in the chronology is up for debate - I personally like the idea that, even after losing most of his faith, Henry still hangs on to this one tradition, but I'm not going to set that in stone.
Spoken Version
Title: All is Well
Characters: Henry, Wake
Warnings: Awkward Henry and Wake with serious denial
Summary: The one where there is a church and Henry has angst
Night fell in a lazy, hazy purple; the stars were hidden behind heavy cloud, filling the world with darkness lit only by an inconsistent moon.
In front of a church, a vampire paced. Every so often he would quit his pacing, affect an annoyed look, glance down at his bare wrist with an impatient sigh, and then return, once more, to his pacing. It was clear from his demeanour that he was not only waiting for something, or someone, but that he rather wished he wasn't.
The whole crucifix-and-holy-water nonsense may be just that, nonsense, but churches have always unnerved Wake. Despite possessing not a shred of religious inclination, he still felt a vague sense of some almighty, disapproving fatherly figure, staring down at him and gently shaking his head as if to say, 'I'm not angry with you, Wake, but you have let me down.'
Definitely unnerving. He paused in his pacing again, this time to glance up at the foreboding façade of the church behind him, the architecture ornate and slightly sinister in the pale silver of the moon. At least the whiny little bastard hadn't dragged him inside this year.
In the distance, a clock rang out loud into the night; Wake felt quite pleased that he didn't jump or start or even flinch in surprise at the sound. Not even a twitch. He smirked smugly, counting the chimes.
“Nine o'clock,” he muttered out loud to himself, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. “And all is well.” He really missed town criers. They had always been such an interesting (and informative) diversionary tactic, and trying to kill them when they had such loud voices, and those bloody great bells, had proved to have a sort of challenge about it. It had been exciting, in a noisy kind of way. You just didn't get entertainment like that anymore.
“I'm done.”
If Wake did flinch, at the sudden sound of Henry's voice behind him, he hid it well with a quick straightening of his jacket. He was just finicky enough to pull it off; after all, he was always checking and rechecking his appearance. Not a crime to want to look your best.
“About time.” He grumbled, childishly. “I don't get what's such a big deal about today anyway.”
He really didn't, he realised, as he watched Henry glance down at his hands in silent contemplation - or maybe the boy was talking to the voices in his head again, who could tell? But he always went to church on this same day, every year, and Wake got dragged along too, because something about Henry could be very persuasive, at least where his sire was concerned.
Wake had just never bothered to ask why. He didn't have any burning desire to understand Henry, not at all, not even a little. He wasn't that kind of guy. Asking questions implied a depth of caring that was greater than anything he was willing to admit to. It implied more than just a sire/fledgeling relationship-with-benefits. It implied kindness and concern and all that sentimental bullshit.
“It's my birthday.”
Henry's voice was so soft, anyone less than a vampire would not have heard it at all.
Wake said nothing. He tugged on the edge of his jacket distractedly. Far away, a clock chimed. Half past nine. All is, at least, quiet. All is peaceful. It's difficult to say if all is well.
“Let's go eat,” Wake decided, after a long time standing in silence, straightening his jacket once again. Then, he grinned slyly, and added, “My treat.”
Henry mumbled something that Wake automatically took to be a reply in the positive. The younger vampire did not stop him from linking their arms together, though his body was slumped and limp and he dragged his feet. Wake didn't care.
“We could eat a drunk. Or two.” He mused. “And get really pissed.”
Two vampires walked away from the church, lit by the watery light of a silver moon, under the heavy shroud of a starless night.
After a length, one of them said:
“Vampires don't have birthdays.”
Ten of the clock, and all is well.