fic, Lost: let the right one in (Boone/Charlie), PG-13
I have another two I need to post but for this evening this is all I can manage. See you tomorrow with the rest.
Title: let the right one in
Pairing: Boone/Charlie
Rating: Pg13
Words: around 3100
Spoilers: AU, therefore no spoilers.
Warnings: ... none really.
Summary: where Charlie just wants to get laid and spend a nice evening, and Boone is the only pro-life vampire (who goes to marches) that ever existed.
A/N: for former Queen yersi_fanel at lostsquee; she wanted Charlie and AUs. Uhm. I really, really hope this is to your liking. Because, uhm, I usually don't do vampires, but I had the idea and I couldn't resist that. Also, if it isn't crack, it's most definitely humor. I hope it fits the bill! :D using for au_abc, vampires, and the fantasy & supernatural: vampires square on my au_bingo card.
Charlie hates himself, at times.
He really does. Because anyone in his situation would be just sodding enjoying themselves, while he’s feeling uneasy because he feels like something isn’t quite right.
Which is, everything considered, pretty much stupid.
You see, Charlie’s evenings always suck. Especially if they’re Friday evenings. You see, he’s in a band, which is awesome, but it’s usually where the awesome stops and the sucking starts.
For one, he might write the songs, but he’s objective enough to realize that they aren’t nowhere good enough for publishing (and considering the publishing standard these days, that’s saying a freaking whole lot). Then, he plays bass, which automatically means that no one notices him, or at least no one notices him if not after they notice everyone else. It’s not like he actually is angry about it; it’s the destiny of the bass player, after all. You know, it’s not like if you think about… Led Zeppelin, Queen, Who, Rolling Stones and Guns n’ Roses, just to name a handful, the first names that come into your head are John Paul Jones, John Deacon, John Entwistle, Bill Wyman and Duff McKagan. If you’re really lucky, they’ll think about the bassist before the drummer and after singer and all the guitars, but the drummer usually is the one who likes to party even moreso than the singer, which means it’s almost never really the case. Also, their singer is Charlie’s brother Liam, who is accidentally much more appealing to the girls’ eyes than Charlie is, and that pretty much seals the deal. Meaning, in short: he never gets one of the already few girls that might want to come backstage.
So it usually means that after concerts which are usually in small places and not that great, the best Charlie can hope for is free alcohol if they brought in enough people, and then he needs to fetch his brother because he’s usually stoned out of his mind when he’s done with the girls. That’s his usual evening. No wonder that his lyrics suck most times, but it’s not like he has this great inspiration.
Anyway, point is, this is the first time in ages that it actually doesn’t happen, and he’s here feeling strange.
He’s bloody hopeless.
Okay, let’s explain that a bit more clearly.
Until the part where they had a crappy concert in a crappy place, everything went exactly as predicted. But then the first strange thing happened, meaning: this gorgeous guy obviously started checking Charlie out from the audience.
And with gorgeous, we mean the kind of gorgeous that Liam’s girls can only dream of: the guy is maybe a bit younger than Charlie, has to be in his early twenties, he wears ripped jeans and a faded Byrds t-shirt that looks old enough to have actually been bought when the Byrds still hadn’t disbanded. He has soft, brown hair that isn’t short but not exactly long either, it barely reaches the base of his neck, pale skin which looks even paler in the crappy lights of the venue, two pink, full lips that seem made just for being kissed at worst and do much naughtier things at best, and two huge, blue eyes that are pretty much out of this world. And he has been staring at Charlie since the whole thing started.
Maybe he’s the odd guy who notices the bassist, Charlie had thought while playing, but then it had ended, they had left the stage, Liam had gone backstage with his four girls and the guy had actually asked Charlie if he could buy him a drink.
So, now Charlie is currently having said drink with Gorgeous Guy, whose name is actually Boone, and everything should be awesome, since the guy not only is Gorgeous, but he also has a brain and can put two sentences together (differently from the few girls in the backstage business that Charlie managed to score). Not to mention, he has a very nice voice, and he can make pretty good conversation, and he actually knows who the Byrds are and he isn’t wearing the shirt just for the heck of it. He also has a very good point about saying that Charlie’s songs kind of suck but he plays them with enough passion to make up for that. While his brother doesn’t, but Boone apparently likes substance over fashion, and apparently Charlie is the substance. Which is all incredibly good.
And Charlie is feeling uneasy because the guy is pale.
And it’s absolutely bollocks. Hell, okay, he has such pale skin that it’s practically ghost-masks-at-Halloween white, and when he shook Charlie’s hand his own was remarkably cold for having been in a joint with fifty people for one hour, but really. It’s stupid. Why should Charlie even mind? People can be pale, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like everyone likes being tanned. And if you’re pale it’s probably bad for you to stay in the sun, and everyone has a certain body temperature. So why if this guy’s is low? It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Get a bloody grip, he thinks, for once that someone actually hits on you and they aren’t even that bad you can’t become paranoid.
Not when your new apparent date has such a nice smile. And their teeth are so white that they seem out of a toothpaste commercial, and Charlie mentally kicks himself and orders his brain to just stop cockblocking him. Or well, at least to stop him from being his own cockblocker. Because that’s just what he’s doing, and there’s nothing sadder than cockblocking yourself, and so Charlie just asks for another drink and tries not to think about whatever is making him feel uneasy.
Alcohol, usually, works wonders in these cases, and for the moment it suffices.
For the moment.
--
So, he just goes along with it and the more time passes, the more he decides that he really wants to kiss those lips. Which at the moment aren’t pink anymore. They’re as red as a ripe strawberry, and along with the blue of those eyes and the pale skin… Jesus, Charlie’s throat tightens just at the idea of touching the almost-Greek-god in front of him, because that’s pretty much how Boone looks like, now that Charlie has drunk enough beer to loosen up a bit more.
So, when Boone asks with a certain seductive tone whether he feels like continuing their conversation about just how great David Crosby was in Charlie’s dressing room, Charlie is only too eager to say yes. He still can’t believe he was this lucky. He’s pretty sure there has to be a catch because it’s too good of a deal to be true.
Unfortunately, he finds out a minute later, there is.
--
It goes like this: they stumble into the dressing room, and they’re kissing, and Christ those lips are as soft as they look like, and they maintain each single sinful promise they might make, and Boone knows how to kiss someone, that’s for fucking sure. Also, both of them are rock hard, and Boone’s skin is slightly warmer now, if only still a bit cool. Whatever. He must have a really low body temperature.
And then the shit hits the fan, metaphorically speaking.
Charlie shouldn’t really have bloody banged his head against the door when Boone practically slammed him against it. Charlie was all for the idea of letting Boone ravage him, and then he felt that sharp pain, and fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding from someplace over his temple.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he says, “let me just get a tissue, it… what?” he ends up almost screaming.
Because damn, for a second, while Boone stared at the wound and the droplet of blood falling down from it… his eyes became black. And his canine teeth became most definitely more like fangs. It was a second, but Charlie’s not drunk enough to hallucinate, and so he shrieks.
“What the fuck is that?”
Even if the answer can be just one.
Now, usually, when this happens in vampire movies, the vampire usually jumps the victim and the victim is, well, dead. And Charlie doesn’t really want to die, but if Boone is really a vampire (and now, well, paleness and coldness? That does make sense…) then he has no chance. And so for a second he’s there, shocked and shaking and with a handerkerchief pressed to his head.
Then Boone says, “Oh, dammit, that happened again!” and falls on the couch in the dressing room with his head in his hands.
The only thing Charlie can think is, seriously? .
--
“Why, why don’t I ever get lucky once? Shannon, fuck you so much wherever you are. Now I need to blow town again if not country at all, damn…”
“Hey, wait a second,” Charlie starts against his better instincts, still pressing the handerkerchief over his wound because he really doesn’t want to risk Boone seeing any more blood, “the hell do you mean? Who’s Shannon? And, uh, are you, I mean, are you a…”
“A vampire? Unluckily for me, yes. And Shannon was my sister. She was turned some fifty years ago by this handsome French vampire that she met while studying in Paris. Our parents were dead and she started pleading. You know, ‘I don’t want to live an eternity alone’, ‘we can be together forever’ and this sort of thing. And I loved her, I did, and so I said yes, and then she got herself killed by some supernatural hunter during the Eighties. Figures. She never learned to lay low.”
“And… you did?”
Boone looks up at him like he’s seriously offended.
“Man, just so you know, I never fucking killed anyone in my entire life. I spent the sixties and the seventies protesting against the Vietnam war and I hate weapons and fucking voted Democrat until I was legally dead. And I’m against killing in general.”
“Don’t you, uh, need blood to, er, survive?”
“Of course I do. I just, uh, well, eat animals most times. If I’m feeling really bold, I try to rob some blood bank, but never more than one bag at a time. You know, I used to donate that, too.”
I just met the only pro-life vampire who ever existed. My life is officially fucking weird, Charlie thinks.
“Anyway, Shannon got herself killed and left me alone, but thankfully I convinced the hunter guy that I really wasn’t dangerous and he let me go. But then again every time I tried to have some fun something happened. You know how hard it is to be around people and avoid blood? People cut themselves all the time. Hell, some people I tried to hit on ended up trying to bite my lip while kissing. Which always ends up pretty bad. There’s blood everywhere and even if I have some pretty fucking awesome self-control, it’s hard, you know?”
Charlie nods, completely dumbfounded.
“Anyway, most times I end up revealing myself and so I have to run from whichever place I end up in. There are enough people around wanting to kill vampires, and now with all this vampire frenzy? Jesus. I apparently look like someone who plays a charming vampire in a tv show and all the girls I tried to have a freaking night out with during the last year wanted to bite me. Figures. So I left the States for a while because crazy girls can never be as crazy as they are there. I was here, just chilling out and waiting for this whole vampire frenzy to finish, I’ve been here for the last six months actually. But anyway, I hadn’t been out for some time and I figured I’d give it a shot because I haven’t had fun in a while, and so I ended up here.”
“Hey, wait a moment, can’t you get out only at night?”
Boone rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Jesus, I hate all of this fake lore. We can go out in the sun without a freaking problem. If you want to kill me, either you put me on fire or you stake me, end of story. Anyway, so, I came in here, and I really liked you, and I figured that one couldn’t really risk seeing blood in such a situation, and then you know the rest. Fuck. I suck at this immortal life while drinking blood thing, I fear. The day I meet Shannon again I’m killing her all over again. Ah, well, I guess I’ll leave now. Sorry about that, man. I’d have really wanted for it to go another…”
“Wait.”
Charlie really is an idiot.
“Did you say that you really liked me, among the rest?”
“Well, yeah,” Boone asks, looking a bit taken by surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because people usually like singers better. Or guitarists. Or, my brother, but…” Charlie trails, feeling like an idiot. “Anyway, you were kind of the first person that came on to me in… more time than I can bloody care to count, and…”
Boone stands up, and keeps himself at a reasonable distance, but shakes his head at the same time.
“Well,” he starts, looking kind of uncomfortable, “I don’t know about what people go for you, or you go for usually, but I really did like you. Why not? Sorry, but I lost my liking for fashion and posh and all of that when Shannon died. You’re… much more real. Less of a stereotype, I guess. You put passion in what you do, which your brother doesn’t, and if you ask me I’m pretty sure you’re much more interesting to talk to. I was sort of really hoping it’d work this time, damn, but I can see that with the circumstances and all…”
“So you don’t, uh, want to kill me?” Charlie asks, feeling completely like an idiot, and not believing he’s having this conversation.
“As long as you don’t shove your blood in my face and I can’t answer for my instincts, no. I told you, I never killed anyone and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Um. Well. It’s that… you know. I kind of really liked you, too. It’s not every day that I meet someone with a brain and who actually knows who was in the Byrds and who’s also not that bad looking.” Charlie can’t really believe that he’s saying this, but then again if Boone had really wanted to kill him, he’d have done that by now. And if he’s acting, then he’s Oscar worthy, at least by the way he’s actually half-smiling now, like he can’t believe that Charlie actually does like him back.
“… really?”
“Well, if I didn’t now I’d have run out of this room already, right?”
Boone nods and comes just a bit closer. Charlie doesn’t move, and not because he’s petrified. He just, doesn’t really want to, and seriously, he must have completely gone crazy. This is bloody insane, that’s what it is.
“Then… then you would, er, maybe want to try and erase that mood killer?”
And Boone looks so really happy about the prospect, his face is kind of obviously readable, that Charlie can’t really bring himself to completely refuse.
“Why… why not. As long as you don’t try to bite me,” he blurts, and then Boone full-on laughs as he comes even closer. And well, fuck, guy has such a pretty smile. You can’t really help liking him.
“I promise I won’t. But if you ever want to try, I’ve been told that a small bite with just the slightest amount of drinking is rather an experience,” Boone literally purrs as he steps forward, and he’s right into Charlie’s personal space, and fuck, knowing what he is kind of makes the whole thing even more exciting. Not to mention that his tone is way too smooth and charming, but it’s… genuine charm.
“Maybe another time?” Charlie asks, his voice strangely tiny, but then Boone just nods.
“Oh, I can totally do without. That isn’t my main skill, you know,” he whispers right next to Charlie’s ear, and it’s downright not legal and it makes his knees buckle, and well, maybe vampires walk around in the sun but they’re still fucking charming.
And, as Charlie finds out just a short while later, he really doesn’t mind being charmed. Not at all.
--
Charlie’s next song isn’t about sharing an endless journey on a tour bus with your bandmates, but about some not better described kind of forbidden but exciting love affair, with someone that might not even be your own species, but Charlie is vague on that, too. It’s objectively better than most of his songs, and people feel it, and everyone asks him what exactly is the person the narrator is talking about. An angel, a ghost, someone from another religion?
Charlie never answers, but just smiles trying to be cryptic (he isn’t sure it works, but hey, he’ll practice it) and goes backstage, where most times there’s… yeah. His apparently now steady-ish… partner, he likes to say, because saying boyfriend sounds way too much like a teenage girl, who is also a vampire, but who also gives the best head Charlie ever received and who really is anything but some blood-sucking heartless monster. It’s been a month and Charlie has come to the conclusion that Boone is the suckiest vampire ever existed. Seriously. He doesn’t kill people, he still goes to marches, he hates guns, he says that he hates being dead because he can’t vote against Republicans, which is another reason why he doesn’t care much for returning to the US anytime soon, he still eats stuff even if he doesn’t need it and his favorite dish is fucking strawberry ice-cream. Also, if your favorite song is by Simon and Garfunkel, you can’t be a serious vampire, at least in Charlie’s book. That said, Boone is indeed incredibly charming. And he’s so great in bed that Charlie is seriously tempted to try the whole biting thing. Also because he thinks that he really does like Boone, and maybe it could become slightly more serious, and if he thinks about it, it’s seriously hot.
But it’ll have to wait for now, because Charlie never really was one to take much risks, and having a bloody vampire for a partner is already too much of one.
Not that he isn’t glad that he took it. Also because said vampire apparently really, really likes Charlie, too.
And well, we established that Charlie’s life is fucking weird; if it means that when Boone’s he-doesn’t-know-which-number-and-he-kind-of-doesn’t-even-want-to birthday rolls by he’s planning to sneakily and possibly stealthily breaking into the blood bank of the hospital he works part-time for, doing administrative work during the day, well, he’ll deal with it being more weird. It’s kind of really worth it.
End.
Title: let the right one in
Pairing: Boone/Charlie
Rating: Pg13
Words: around 3100
Spoilers: AU, therefore no spoilers.
Warnings: ... none really.
Summary: where Charlie just wants to get laid and spend a nice evening, and Boone is the only pro-life vampire (who goes to marches) that ever existed.
A/N: for former Queen yersi_fanel at lostsquee; she wanted Charlie and AUs. Uhm. I really, really hope this is to your liking. Because, uhm, I usually don't do vampires, but I had the idea and I couldn't resist that. Also, if it isn't crack, it's most definitely humor. I hope it fits the bill! :D using for au_abc, vampires, and the fantasy & supernatural: vampires square on my au_bingo card.
Charlie hates himself, at times.
He really does. Because anyone in his situation would be just sodding enjoying themselves, while he’s feeling uneasy because he feels like something isn’t quite right.
Which is, everything considered, pretty much stupid.
You see, Charlie’s evenings always suck. Especially if they’re Friday evenings. You see, he’s in a band, which is awesome, but it’s usually where the awesome stops and the sucking starts.
For one, he might write the songs, but he’s objective enough to realize that they aren’t nowhere good enough for publishing (and considering the publishing standard these days, that’s saying a freaking whole lot). Then, he plays bass, which automatically means that no one notices him, or at least no one notices him if not after they notice everyone else. It’s not like he actually is angry about it; it’s the destiny of the bass player, after all. You know, it’s not like if you think about… Led Zeppelin, Queen, Who, Rolling Stones and Guns n’ Roses, just to name a handful, the first names that come into your head are John Paul Jones, John Deacon, John Entwistle, Bill Wyman and Duff McKagan. If you’re really lucky, they’ll think about the bassist before the drummer and after singer and all the guitars, but the drummer usually is the one who likes to party even moreso than the singer, which means it’s almost never really the case. Also, their singer is Charlie’s brother Liam, who is accidentally much more appealing to the girls’ eyes than Charlie is, and that pretty much seals the deal. Meaning, in short: he never gets one of the already few girls that might want to come backstage.
So it usually means that after concerts which are usually in small places and not that great, the best Charlie can hope for is free alcohol if they brought in enough people, and then he needs to fetch his brother because he’s usually stoned out of his mind when he’s done with the girls. That’s his usual evening. No wonder that his lyrics suck most times, but it’s not like he has this great inspiration.
Anyway, point is, this is the first time in ages that it actually doesn’t happen, and he’s here feeling strange.
He’s bloody hopeless.
Okay, let’s explain that a bit more clearly.
Until the part where they had a crappy concert in a crappy place, everything went exactly as predicted. But then the first strange thing happened, meaning: this gorgeous guy obviously started checking Charlie out from the audience.
And with gorgeous, we mean the kind of gorgeous that Liam’s girls can only dream of: the guy is maybe a bit younger than Charlie, has to be in his early twenties, he wears ripped jeans and a faded Byrds t-shirt that looks old enough to have actually been bought when the Byrds still hadn’t disbanded. He has soft, brown hair that isn’t short but not exactly long either, it barely reaches the base of his neck, pale skin which looks even paler in the crappy lights of the venue, two pink, full lips that seem made just for being kissed at worst and do much naughtier things at best, and two huge, blue eyes that are pretty much out of this world. And he has been staring at Charlie since the whole thing started.
Maybe he’s the odd guy who notices the bassist, Charlie had thought while playing, but then it had ended, they had left the stage, Liam had gone backstage with his four girls and the guy had actually asked Charlie if he could buy him a drink.
So, now Charlie is currently having said drink with Gorgeous Guy, whose name is actually Boone, and everything should be awesome, since the guy not only is Gorgeous, but he also has a brain and can put two sentences together (differently from the few girls in the backstage business that Charlie managed to score). Not to mention, he has a very nice voice, and he can make pretty good conversation, and he actually knows who the Byrds are and he isn’t wearing the shirt just for the heck of it. He also has a very good point about saying that Charlie’s songs kind of suck but he plays them with enough passion to make up for that. While his brother doesn’t, but Boone apparently likes substance over fashion, and apparently Charlie is the substance. Which is all incredibly good.
And Charlie is feeling uneasy because the guy is pale.
And it’s absolutely bollocks. Hell, okay, he has such pale skin that it’s practically ghost-masks-at-Halloween white, and when he shook Charlie’s hand his own was remarkably cold for having been in a joint with fifty people for one hour, but really. It’s stupid. Why should Charlie even mind? People can be pale, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like everyone likes being tanned. And if you’re pale it’s probably bad for you to stay in the sun, and everyone has a certain body temperature. So why if this guy’s is low? It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Get a bloody grip, he thinks, for once that someone actually hits on you and they aren’t even that bad you can’t become paranoid.
Not when your new apparent date has such a nice smile. And their teeth are so white that they seem out of a toothpaste commercial, and Charlie mentally kicks himself and orders his brain to just stop cockblocking him. Or well, at least to stop him from being his own cockblocker. Because that’s just what he’s doing, and there’s nothing sadder than cockblocking yourself, and so Charlie just asks for another drink and tries not to think about whatever is making him feel uneasy.
Alcohol, usually, works wonders in these cases, and for the moment it suffices.
For the moment.
--
So, he just goes along with it and the more time passes, the more he decides that he really wants to kiss those lips. Which at the moment aren’t pink anymore. They’re as red as a ripe strawberry, and along with the blue of those eyes and the pale skin… Jesus, Charlie’s throat tightens just at the idea of touching the almost-Greek-god in front of him, because that’s pretty much how Boone looks like, now that Charlie has drunk enough beer to loosen up a bit more.
So, when Boone asks with a certain seductive tone whether he feels like continuing their conversation about just how great David Crosby was in Charlie’s dressing room, Charlie is only too eager to say yes. He still can’t believe he was this lucky. He’s pretty sure there has to be a catch because it’s too good of a deal to be true.
Unfortunately, he finds out a minute later, there is.
--
It goes like this: they stumble into the dressing room, and they’re kissing, and Christ those lips are as soft as they look like, and they maintain each single sinful promise they might make, and Boone knows how to kiss someone, that’s for fucking sure. Also, both of them are rock hard, and Boone’s skin is slightly warmer now, if only still a bit cool. Whatever. He must have a really low body temperature.
And then the shit hits the fan, metaphorically speaking.
Charlie shouldn’t really have bloody banged his head against the door when Boone practically slammed him against it. Charlie was all for the idea of letting Boone ravage him, and then he felt that sharp pain, and fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding from someplace over his temple.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he says, “let me just get a tissue, it… what?” he ends up almost screaming.
Because damn, for a second, while Boone stared at the wound and the droplet of blood falling down from it… his eyes became black. And his canine teeth became most definitely more like fangs. It was a second, but Charlie’s not drunk enough to hallucinate, and so he shrieks.
“What the fuck is that?”
Even if the answer can be just one.
Now, usually, when this happens in vampire movies, the vampire usually jumps the victim and the victim is, well, dead. And Charlie doesn’t really want to die, but if Boone is really a vampire (and now, well, paleness and coldness? That does make sense…) then he has no chance. And so for a second he’s there, shocked and shaking and with a handerkerchief pressed to his head.
Then Boone says, “Oh, dammit, that happened again!” and falls on the couch in the dressing room with his head in his hands.
The only thing Charlie can think is, seriously? .
--
“Why, why don’t I ever get lucky once? Shannon, fuck you so much wherever you are. Now I need to blow town again if not country at all, damn…”
“Hey, wait a second,” Charlie starts against his better instincts, still pressing the handerkerchief over his wound because he really doesn’t want to risk Boone seeing any more blood, “the hell do you mean? Who’s Shannon? And, uh, are you, I mean, are you a…”
“A vampire? Unluckily for me, yes. And Shannon was my sister. She was turned some fifty years ago by this handsome French vampire that she met while studying in Paris. Our parents were dead and she started pleading. You know, ‘I don’t want to live an eternity alone’, ‘we can be together forever’ and this sort of thing. And I loved her, I did, and so I said yes, and then she got herself killed by some supernatural hunter during the Eighties. Figures. She never learned to lay low.”
“And… you did?”
Boone looks up at him like he’s seriously offended.
“Man, just so you know, I never fucking killed anyone in my entire life. I spent the sixties and the seventies protesting against the Vietnam war and I hate weapons and fucking voted Democrat until I was legally dead. And I’m against killing in general.”
“Don’t you, uh, need blood to, er, survive?”
“Of course I do. I just, uh, well, eat animals most times. If I’m feeling really bold, I try to rob some blood bank, but never more than one bag at a time. You know, I used to donate that, too.”
I just met the only pro-life vampire who ever existed. My life is officially fucking weird, Charlie thinks.
“Anyway, Shannon got herself killed and left me alone, but thankfully I convinced the hunter guy that I really wasn’t dangerous and he let me go. But then again every time I tried to have some fun something happened. You know how hard it is to be around people and avoid blood? People cut themselves all the time. Hell, some people I tried to hit on ended up trying to bite my lip while kissing. Which always ends up pretty bad. There’s blood everywhere and even if I have some pretty fucking awesome self-control, it’s hard, you know?”
Charlie nods, completely dumbfounded.
“Anyway, most times I end up revealing myself and so I have to run from whichever place I end up in. There are enough people around wanting to kill vampires, and now with all this vampire frenzy? Jesus. I apparently look like someone who plays a charming vampire in a tv show and all the girls I tried to have a freaking night out with during the last year wanted to bite me. Figures. So I left the States for a while because crazy girls can never be as crazy as they are there. I was here, just chilling out and waiting for this whole vampire frenzy to finish, I’ve been here for the last six months actually. But anyway, I hadn’t been out for some time and I figured I’d give it a shot because I haven’t had fun in a while, and so I ended up here.”
“Hey, wait a moment, can’t you get out only at night?”
Boone rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Jesus, I hate all of this fake lore. We can go out in the sun without a freaking problem. If you want to kill me, either you put me on fire or you stake me, end of story. Anyway, so, I came in here, and I really liked you, and I figured that one couldn’t really risk seeing blood in such a situation, and then you know the rest. Fuck. I suck at this immortal life while drinking blood thing, I fear. The day I meet Shannon again I’m killing her all over again. Ah, well, I guess I’ll leave now. Sorry about that, man. I’d have really wanted for it to go another…”
“Wait.”
Charlie really is an idiot.
“Did you say that you really liked me, among the rest?”
“Well, yeah,” Boone asks, looking a bit taken by surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because people usually like singers better. Or guitarists. Or, my brother, but…” Charlie trails, feeling like an idiot. “Anyway, you were kind of the first person that came on to me in… more time than I can bloody care to count, and…”
Boone stands up, and keeps himself at a reasonable distance, but shakes his head at the same time.
“Well,” he starts, looking kind of uncomfortable, “I don’t know about what people go for you, or you go for usually, but I really did like you. Why not? Sorry, but I lost my liking for fashion and posh and all of that when Shannon died. You’re… much more real. Less of a stereotype, I guess. You put passion in what you do, which your brother doesn’t, and if you ask me I’m pretty sure you’re much more interesting to talk to. I was sort of really hoping it’d work this time, damn, but I can see that with the circumstances and all…”
“So you don’t, uh, want to kill me?” Charlie asks, feeling completely like an idiot, and not believing he’s having this conversation.
“As long as you don’t shove your blood in my face and I can’t answer for my instincts, no. I told you, I never killed anyone and I don’t intend to start now.”
“Um. Well. It’s that… you know. I kind of really liked you, too. It’s not every day that I meet someone with a brain and who actually knows who was in the Byrds and who’s also not that bad looking.” Charlie can’t really believe that he’s saying this, but then again if Boone had really wanted to kill him, he’d have done that by now. And if he’s acting, then he’s Oscar worthy, at least by the way he’s actually half-smiling now, like he can’t believe that Charlie actually does like him back.
“… really?”
“Well, if I didn’t now I’d have run out of this room already, right?”
Boone nods and comes just a bit closer. Charlie doesn’t move, and not because he’s petrified. He just, doesn’t really want to, and seriously, he must have completely gone crazy. This is bloody insane, that’s what it is.
“Then… then you would, er, maybe want to try and erase that mood killer?”
And Boone looks so really happy about the prospect, his face is kind of obviously readable, that Charlie can’t really bring himself to completely refuse.
“Why… why not. As long as you don’t try to bite me,” he blurts, and then Boone full-on laughs as he comes even closer. And well, fuck, guy has such a pretty smile. You can’t really help liking him.
“I promise I won’t. But if you ever want to try, I’ve been told that a small bite with just the slightest amount of drinking is rather an experience,” Boone literally purrs as he steps forward, and he’s right into Charlie’s personal space, and fuck, knowing what he is kind of makes the whole thing even more exciting. Not to mention that his tone is way too smooth and charming, but it’s… genuine charm.
“Maybe another time?” Charlie asks, his voice strangely tiny, but then Boone just nods.
“Oh, I can totally do without. That isn’t my main skill, you know,” he whispers right next to Charlie’s ear, and it’s downright not legal and it makes his knees buckle, and well, maybe vampires walk around in the sun but they’re still fucking charming.
And, as Charlie finds out just a short while later, he really doesn’t mind being charmed. Not at all.
--
Charlie’s next song isn’t about sharing an endless journey on a tour bus with your bandmates, but about some not better described kind of forbidden but exciting love affair, with someone that might not even be your own species, but Charlie is vague on that, too. It’s objectively better than most of his songs, and people feel it, and everyone asks him what exactly is the person the narrator is talking about. An angel, a ghost, someone from another religion?
Charlie never answers, but just smiles trying to be cryptic (he isn’t sure it works, but hey, he’ll practice it) and goes backstage, where most times there’s… yeah. His apparently now steady-ish… partner, he likes to say, because saying boyfriend sounds way too much like a teenage girl, who is also a vampire, but who also gives the best head Charlie ever received and who really is anything but some blood-sucking heartless monster. It’s been a month and Charlie has come to the conclusion that Boone is the suckiest vampire ever existed. Seriously. He doesn’t kill people, he still goes to marches, he hates guns, he says that he hates being dead because he can’t vote against Republicans, which is another reason why he doesn’t care much for returning to the US anytime soon, he still eats stuff even if he doesn’t need it and his favorite dish is fucking strawberry ice-cream. Also, if your favorite song is by Simon and Garfunkel, you can’t be a serious vampire, at least in Charlie’s book. That said, Boone is indeed incredibly charming. And he’s so great in bed that Charlie is seriously tempted to try the whole biting thing. Also because he thinks that he really does like Boone, and maybe it could become slightly more serious, and if he thinks about it, it’s seriously hot.
But it’ll have to wait for now, because Charlie never really was one to take much risks, and having a bloody vampire for a partner is already too much of one.
Not that he isn’t glad that he took it. Also because said vampire apparently really, really likes Charlie, too.
And well, we established that Charlie’s life is fucking weird; if it means that when Boone’s he-doesn’t-know-which-number-and-he-kind-of-doesn’t-even-want-to birthday rolls by he’s planning to sneakily and possibly stealthily breaking into the blood bank of the hospital he works part-time for, doing administrative work during the day, well, he’ll deal with it being more weird. It’s kind of really worth it.
End.