#i gave him a dress shirt to emphasize the half-vlad thing

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Spooky

The mission has been straight forward enough - get in, eliminate the target, get out. It was idiot proof. Or so you thought. You’d begun to learn that where Clint Barton was concerned, nothing was ever idiot proof.

Wait. That sounded cruel. But it was true. If a mission could be fucked up, Clint was at your side for it to happen. Maybe that said more about you than him? Maybe you were just a doomed partnership. He didn’t seem to have the same problems with Natasha.

Now, Eastern Europe was filled with anxiety-inducing former-Soviet-bloc horrors that honestly gave you nightmares, but being assigned to track down and eliminate a human trafficker who liked to go by Vlad Dracul made the whole thing creepier. October in Romania, Clint’s shitty-ass vampire jokes, and your own self-sabotage by being far too big a fan of the genre was not helping. 

And the rest of the team had thought it was hilarious that you were tracking a vampire. Because they don’t exist, right? You laughed and played the dupe, but you weren’t so sure. All the intel on the guy made him sound disturbingly like the actual Dracula of legend. Which scared you even more. Which made Clint ride you even more. Which, when the chips were down, made the whole goddamn scene an even bigger shitshow.

Turns out vampires do exist, by the way. And you were now sporting a nice hickey from the truly-from-legend-goddamn Dracula. Clint was knocked out at your feet, apparently not Drac’s type and you were just. so. fucking. done. Weak from lack of blood, mad at your partner, and tied to some kind of freaky-ass altar, you just couldn’t even. You were praying for a cavalry. Your extraction wasn’t due for 72 hours, and you were over 100 miles from the extraction point, as near as you could figure, so you really didn’t have a lot of hope for the cavalry, but you were opportunistically praying to every god you’d ever heard of, whether you knew they existed or not, hoping someone would show up.

The walls of the crypt you were in were damp and caught the dim light from the stereotypically bleak candles in a way that emphasized exactly how spooky the whole scene was. It felt like the set of an old black and white B-movie where they’d blown the budget on the dressing the scene. Too bad you were the world’s shittiest actress. And your so-called leading man was on the ground, down for the count.

There was a hollow dripping than echoed throughout the chamber, making you wonder if there was a well nearby. And the wind howled outside, and there was an occasional flash of light followed by a loud, booming crack of thunder. If you weren’t feeling so weak, you might have been more frightened. As it was, you were dehydrated enough that no one was going to be able to scare the pee out of you if they sprung out of one of the dark corners. 

You resumed your quiet muttered prayers, wishing the bastard vampire had at least shackled your hands together. But spread apart, you couldn’t even hope to break free. 

“Why the fuck do they always send out unpowered teammates together? Could I get sent with Steve? Or Bucky? Or Wanda? Nooooo. Me and Clint. Every goddamn time.” You stopped praying long enough to soliloquay before starting back up. A low moan from near your feet informed you that Clint was finally rousing.

“Try praying to Thor, dumbass. He’s at least on our side,” Clint grumbled. “And we know he fucking exists.”

“Look dipshit -” you started, and then realized he was right. Thor might not hear you, but maybe Heimdal would. You hoped Asgardian hearing was supersonic because you didn’t want to risk yelling through the castle walls and alerting your captor. A clanging of metal on metal sounded from the stairs and your breath caught. Had it seriously worked? Your eyes strained in the low light, only to be disappointed by the appearance of Dracula. It must be feeding time. 

“My flower, your cheeks grow wan,” he commented, brushing his hand along your face. “Soon, you will be drained, and you can join me in the afterlife.”

“I’d rather not. I have this thing about enjoying the sun. I get really bad seasonal affective disorder, so living in darkness might not work for me long-term. And I was thinking of becoming a vegetarian. Pretty sure people are off the menu if I go that lifestyle,” you rambled, nervous and frightened. He leaned down and inhaled deeply near your throat.

“The fear makes your blood so much sweeter,” he commented.

“Really? Because I would think I’m burning through my stores pretty damn fast at this point. Like, my blood sugar has to be down in my boots, and my hemoglobin, after your last drink? I’m like when your gramma thinks you’re looking chunky so she waters down the fruit punch at Auntie Donna’s birthday party. I bet Clint is way more delicious at this point,” you were starting to panic and your words were coming as fast as you could form them.

“Hey!” Clint protested from the ground. Dracula just smiled and shook his head.

“Your humour makes your sacrifice all the more determined. How could I resist such wry commentary? For eternity? No, darling, you are my chosen consort,” he laughed softly, his breath cool against your skin. You felt his lips against your neck and stiffened, bracing for the snap of teeth into your skin.

“Oh please, oh please, oh please, oh please.” The words were a rapid litany under your breath, your eyes clenched shut. “Thor, please, Thor, please, Thor -”

“He is not coming, my dark princess. No one is. Submit. Submit and this fool will be your first meal,” Dracula interrupted, kicking Clint in the ribs.

“I don’t want to eat him!” You protested weakly. “He’s my friend.”

“And not your lover?” Dracula asked, crooning an eyebrow. “A shame. It’s always sweeter when there is love between you.”

“Aww, dude. No,” Clint moaned from the floor. If you could have shrugged, you would have. He was only saying what you both felt. Lightning flashed in the room again and the thunder was just seconds behind it. In any other circumstance, you would have assumed it was Thor, but the storm had been raging for hours, and hadn’t shown any sign of letting up.

“You will still provide nourishment to your partner, despite the lack of amorous feeling,” Dracula explained, looking down at Clint. The thought of digging your teeth into your friend’s neck was enough to turn your stomach. Or at least, it would have been, if there was anything in there to turn. You’d been running on chocolate covered almonds and caffeine for half a day when you’d been caught. You doubted you had enough substance in you to even create bile to toss up. 

Dracula turned back to you, and resumed the weird scenting ritual he seemed to be performing along your neck.

“Quick question?” You asked. He paused, as though waiting. “Why me? What makes me so special that you want me to rule by your side?” You asked, mocking his accent in the process. And suddenly were hit by a fit of the giggles,  at the sheer ludicrousness of the whole situation.

“For a human, you are remarkably gifted,” he admitted. “And there is the concern of you wanting to eliminate me. What better way to remove my enemy than to turn her to me?”

“Okay, Clint is just way more talented than I am. Much better if you’re looking at skills. More agile, braver, definitely a better shot. Nicer physique too, I have this whole weak upper body thing going on, but check out the dude’s guns. He’s packing some serious heat, I mean, he could rival Steve almost, I think. And if you’re wanting a companion that can lure in more victims, he’s pretty cute as long as he keeps his mouth shut. You could bounce a fucking quarter off his ass and -”

“Enough!” Dracula snapped, effectively silencing you. 

“Thanks, Y/N,” Clint grumbled. “Way to chuck me under the horse drawn vampire carriage.”

“I can’t help that it’s true. And this is where the whole you’re braver thing comes in. I know you’d just suck it up, pardon the pun, and being the hero and die, but I’m not brave like you. I got to where I am by being sneaky and sly and -”

“I said enough!” Dracula’s voice boomed through the room and you startled silent. Everything startled silent, it seemed, the storm finally quieting down, the wind no longer howling down the stairs. He leaned down to you again and this time drew his tongue across the bite marks he’d previously left. “When you waken, my love, you will hunger. You will thirst as you never have before. And you, and your friend will be locked down here until he is drained. And then you will join me in death’s embrace.”

His teeth grazed your neck and you could feel your heart rate accelerating, and cursed it, knowing the damn muscle would just pump you down his throat that much faster. You drew in a deep breath, and forced yourself to go to the happy place the team shrink had forced you to build after your first bad mission. 

“I’m in my happy place, I’m in my happy place,” you mumbled. “I’m on a beach, and it’s sunny, and Thor and Steve are playing beach volleyball with Tony and Sam and Bucky and no one has shirts on, and there’s sweaty glistening muscles and I have a frosty, slushy drink with loads of booze in it to lower my inhibitions and OH FUCK THAT REALLY FUCKING HURTS Thor’s shorts have little hammers on them like some kind of joke, and even Loki is there and his shirt is off too and it’s like a fucking hot dude calendar filled with guys I’d totally screw and OW OW OW OW OW, happy place, happy place, happy place.” Your mind grew grey and fuzzy and you couldn’t stop yourself as you lapsed from consciousness as a huge crack of lightning lit the room.

You drowsed back into consciousness and felt a warm hand on your cheek. “Tell me more about my shorts, ástin mín.” The voice was warm, and rich and you tried to open your eyes, but the room was too bright and you flinched, closing them again. Your stomach rolled at the onslaught and you groaned and turned your head into the hand cupping your face.

“What shorts?” You asked. Your mouth was dry and your voice cracked with disuse. It was so fucking bright. You must be dead. You must be dead, and this must be heaven. Or maybe hell, because that sounded a lot like Thor and if he’d heard about his shorts and your happy place, this was your worst nightmare.

“My shorts with the hammers. And my brother, did his shorts have that cow horned helm of his?” It was Thor. And he was teasing you. You were in hell.

“Am I dead? If not, can you kill me? I would like to be dead,” you moaned.

“Is there a theme to our beach attire? Does Steve have shields, and Tony -”

“I really hadn’t got that far into the fantasy,” you turned your head away from his voice, suddenly warm with embarrassment.

“But you knew of my shorts? Does this rank me higher on the list of guys you would screw?” His teasing was gentle and there was a soft huff of laughter from him at the end of the question. You turned your head back to him and forced your eyes open enough to glare at him. 

“I nearly died, Thor,” you pointed out.

“You did,” he nodded, sombrely.

“And you’re teasing me about my stupid crush on you,” you complained. He lifted the hand you hadn’t realized he was holding and kissed your palm.

“I nearly lost you, ástin mín. Forgive me for trying to forget it by teasing you.” You curled your fingers against his face and felt the rough scratch of his beard, and forced your eyes open again. There were tears at the edges of his eyes and he looked tired, and drawn.

“How did I not die?” You asked. He laughed.

“I am a god, it would seem,” he smiled.

“What?”

“I heard your prayers. We had been looking for you and Clint since you’d fallen off the grid. We’d been following your trail, but you’d disappeared. We knew we had to be somewhat close, and then I found your tracking beacon where you’d dropped it near the castle. And then I heard your voice in my head. And I could see you, as clearly as though you were in front of me,” he explained. “I wasn’t quite in time to stop him from draining you, but he didn’t feed you, and we were able to transfuse you in the quinjet. Dr. Cho thinks there may be some side effects.”

“Why?” You asked. There were so many words, and most of them boiled down to you nearly dying.

“Steve was the only blood type match on the team,” Thor explained. “I, of course, am a universal donor to all humanoid creatures. Between Steve and I, we donated nearly four full units.”

“Side effects like?”

“It’s possible you may experience some serum-induced changes,” he hedged.

“And from you?”

“You were already kona í hjarta mínu. I’m afraid if those feelings were unrequited, they no longer will be,” he explained. 

“Kona -” you trailed off, as the words suddenly translated in your mind. Your eyes widened, blinding you for a moment, and you blinked and looked back at Thor.

“Eilífur elskaðir,” you murmured. “I think I can handle that.”

#i’m Sorry #I’m still learning this iPad thing and can’t get the read more to work properly