Sunnydale AU: live it up, boys
Grahame knows the entire situation is a disaster in the making. He should pull rank, take control away from Violet and maybe put her somewhere quiet until she comes to her senses, and see to it that Reed gets a stake in the heart. His brother is gone. Irretrievably.
But maybe that's part of the problem - it's been a very long time since their relationship was anything like it was when they were children. Grahame loved his brother, once, and believes his brother loved him, but that has long since been dead and buried. Maybe if that were different, Grahame would respond the way he should.
As it is, he finds it hard to differentiate between the brother he'd come to despise and the demon who now wears his skin.
"Grahame." The sound of his name comes from behind him, a split second after the study door opens and closes again. He startles and turns. Reed is there, leaning against the wall and grinning at him.
"Being dead doesn't excuse you from knocking," Grahame snaps, annoyed with the both of them over having been caught off guard like that.
"Make me," Reed suggests.
They both know this will happen a hundred times over. Any advantage Reed can find over Grahame, he will exploit to the utmost. Even alive, he delighted in making things difficult for Grahame whenever he could get away with.
And now, with the demon's sadistic nature - well.
Grahame will be lucky if all Reed ever does is startle him.
"Was there something you needed?" he asks brusquely. He refuses to give Reed the satisfaction of treating him any differently.
"As a matter of fact -"
The next second or two is filled with a bewildering amount of activity, things happening faster than Grahame is capable of processing them. He finds himself with his desk chair turned around and Reed straddling him; the delay between the event and his shuddering gasp of fear is almost comical.
"Oh, relax," Reed murmurs. His fingertips ghost over the line of Grahame's throat. Grahame is shaking, hands tight on the arms of his chair. "I made my promises. I'll play nice. I don't have to kill to feed."
"You - you can't be serious." Reed's fingers are cool against his skin. Not disgustingly so, like he might have imagined a vampire's touch to be, but as though he's been sitting in air conditioning a little longer than he needed to. "You expect to -"
"Don't give me that." Reed's fingers slide up to below Grahame's chin, tipping his face up. "There was a time you would have jumped at the chance." His lips brush Grahame's and he whispers, "You think you've funnelled all that into Cal, but you're wrong."
He remembers it, in college, all tied up with enforced close quarters and the death of brotherly love and Reed bringing girls back to their dorm room whenever he could, embodying everything Grahame had known for some time that he wanted, and is it any wonder Grahame got . . . confused? For a while?
Any wonder that Cal's recent physical maturation has dragged that confusion, or something like it, back into the light?
Reed kisses him again, then tilts Grahame's head further back and lowers his mouth to Grahame's throat and this time, when Grahame gasps, fear has nothing to do with it.
But maybe that's part of the problem - it's been a very long time since their relationship was anything like it was when they were children. Grahame loved his brother, once, and believes his brother loved him, but that has long since been dead and buried. Maybe if that were different, Grahame would respond the way he should.
As it is, he finds it hard to differentiate between the brother he'd come to despise and the demon who now wears his skin.
"Grahame." The sound of his name comes from behind him, a split second after the study door opens and closes again. He startles and turns. Reed is there, leaning against the wall and grinning at him.
"Being dead doesn't excuse you from knocking," Grahame snaps, annoyed with the both of them over having been caught off guard like that.
"Make me," Reed suggests.
They both know this will happen a hundred times over. Any advantage Reed can find over Grahame, he will exploit to the utmost. Even alive, he delighted in making things difficult for Grahame whenever he could get away with.
And now, with the demon's sadistic nature - well.
Grahame will be lucky if all Reed ever does is startle him.
"Was there something you needed?" he asks brusquely. He refuses to give Reed the satisfaction of treating him any differently.
"As a matter of fact -"
The next second or two is filled with a bewildering amount of activity, things happening faster than Grahame is capable of processing them. He finds himself with his desk chair turned around and Reed straddling him; the delay between the event and his shuddering gasp of fear is almost comical.
"Oh, relax," Reed murmurs. His fingertips ghost over the line of Grahame's throat. Grahame is shaking, hands tight on the arms of his chair. "I made my promises. I'll play nice. I don't have to kill to feed."
"You - you can't be serious." Reed's fingers are cool against his skin. Not disgustingly so, like he might have imagined a vampire's touch to be, but as though he's been sitting in air conditioning a little longer than he needed to. "You expect to -"
"Don't give me that." Reed's fingers slide up to below Grahame's chin, tipping his face up. "There was a time you would have jumped at the chance." His lips brush Grahame's and he whispers, "You think you've funnelled all that into Cal, but you're wrong."
He remembers it, in college, all tied up with enforced close quarters and the death of brotherly love and Reed bringing girls back to their dorm room whenever he could, embodying everything Grahame had known for some time that he wanted, and is it any wonder Grahame got . . . confused? For a while?
Any wonder that Cal's recent physical maturation has dragged that confusion, or something like it, back into the light?
Reed kisses him again, then tilts Grahame's head further back and lowers his mouth to Grahame's throat and this time, when Grahame gasps, fear has nothing to do with it.