i wrote something for this vampire!pac/vampire hunter!fit au \o/ in my mind this is placed kind of around the middle of the plot? perhaps closer to the start? this is just a wip! for my peace of mind i have no intentions of picking up another multi-chapter fic, i just wanted to write something for the au since it was on the mind
hope you guys enjoy \o/ reblogs are appreciated!
Mike has a tight grip on his arm, and is dragging him through the castle. Fit had—unfortunately—been forced to leave all his weapons at the door, but he was allowed to keep his rosary for self-defence.
“He’s eating.” Mike says, and Fit still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s actually doing here. He just wanted to attempt another duel, and then Mike was telling him Pac wanted to talk to him. “Just wait, okay? He will be done soon.”
Mike opens a door to a room and shoves him inside. The vampiric strength means he actually stumbles, but he manages to reel back in time to keep the door from closing while he surveys the room.
And he’s glad he did because Pac is—Well, Pac is—He’s certainly occupied. To say the least.
He’s lying on top of someone—and, sure, he could just be feeding, in which case Fit should probably do something about that—but, well… they’re on a bed. And the other person’s hand is curled into Pac’s hair, carding through it.
He backs himself out of the room quickly, closing the door as he goes. He turns to Mike. Who is staring at him unimpressed with his arms crossed.
“I think—I think he’s, uh… busy.” Fit says.
And his face is annoyingly warm.
“I told you, bro.” Mike tries to open the door again. “He’s just eating.”
Unfortunately, Fit’s hand had already slipped off of the door handle. Mike bullies his way past him easily enough, and opens the door again. Shoves Fit inside again. Stupid vampiric strength. Fit could technically fight against it, but he is not in the position to start a fight right now.
“I’m just outside.” Mike warns him. “So don’t try anything.”
“What can I try?” Fit hisses back. On the bed, Pac is pushing himself to sit up. “You took all my weapons.”
Mike shrugs, and closes the door. Great.
“Hi, Fit!” Pac calls out, now sitting next to the person on the bed—who hasn’t gotten up.
Fit should really go check on them. But all he has is a stupid fucking rosary, so he doesn’t want to provoke Pac.
“Uh… hey, Pac.” Fit nods over at the body. “Are they dead?”
“What? No!” Pac laughs, teeth gleaming white—a stark contrast to the red splattered on his lips and around his mouth. It’s… eerie. Definitely eerie and nothing else. “This is Felps.”
Felps reaches a hand up, and Pac helps him sit up. He drapes himself against Pac’s side, letting his chin rest on Pac’s shoulder.
“Hi.” Felps offers him a small wave. “It’s nice to meet you finally.”
“Uh… hi.” Fit takes a stuttering step closer. What the fuck is he supposed to do here? “Can I talk to you? Alone?”
“Me?” Felps points at himself, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah.”
This isn’t really what he had planned. But then again, his plan went out the window the second Mike answered the door and told him Pac wanted to talk.
Felps pouts, and wraps his arms around Pac’s waist. Pac laughs, and twists his head to press a kiss to Felps’ cheek. It leaves behind a bloody smear.
“It’s okay.” Pac says, patting Felps’ arms. Felps reluctantly lets go of him. “I need to go clean up, right?“
Pac crawls off the bed, and goes through a different door—into a bathroom, Fit assumes. The door clicks closed, and Fit hurries over to the bed.
“Okay, so, are you, like… alright?”
“Huh? I’m fine?” Felps tilts his head, confused. But before Fit can clarify, Felps’ eyes light up in understanding and he clicks his fingers. “Oh! Because of the—“ he waves a hand around his neck. “I’m fine, but… I don’t know, tired? It’s like getting blood taken.”
Fit doesn’t really know what that means. He hasn’t ever had blood taken. It felt too weird with his line of work.
“Okay, but… are they keeping you here?” Fit continues. “Do you—Do you need help?”
Now Felps just looks amused. Which… fair. Fit feels like he’s misjudging this situation immensely, but he has to make sure.
“I live here.” Felps holds his hands up like he’s marking off a list. “Pac’s my boyfriend. I let him do this because I know he won’t hurt me.”
“Okay.” Fit scans over Felps’ face. It seems true. “I just had to make sure, you know?”
“I get it.” Felps nods solemnly. Then he lights up, and points at Fit’s rosary. “Can I see that?”
“What? No.” Fit clutches a hand around it protectively. “I need it.”
“It’s okay, I’m a saint.” Felps holds his hands out, insistent. “I can make it work.”
“You’re—What? No, no, I—“ Fit takes a step back. “It already works. I can’t really afford you fucking stealing it, you know?”
“Okay.” Felps says, dragging the word out like he believes Fit’s making a bad decision.
“And, hey, what do you mean, make it work? Isn’t Pac your boyfriend? Why do you wanna help me kill him?” Then something clicks, and his face goes warm. “Wait, wait, hold on a second. Pac’s your boyfriend? Do you—Do you know the, uh… the kinds of things he says to m—to people?”
“Oh, yeah.” Felps forms his pointer fingers and thumbs into a triangle. “Me, Pac, and Mike are all dating.” Felps separates a pointer finger out, and wiggles it. “Mike has his wife.” And then he does the same with the other. “And Pac likes to flirt, right?” Felps shrugs and drops his hands back into his lap. “I can, too. But I don’t know… I don’t really care about that right now?“
“Uh… okay.”
Right, that’s—Good for them. The happiness Fit is feeling is just because he’s glad he’s not caught up in a cheating scandal. Because that would be awkward.
“But it’s okay.” Felps smiles. “You and Pac.”
“Me and—? Excuse me! There—There is no me and Pac, okay?” If his face was warm before, it’s on fire now. It definitely does not help that Felps just raises an eyebrow. “You have—You both have, uh… have the wrong idea, okay? I’m just trying to do my fucking job, it’s Pac that—that keeps flirting.”
“Uh huh.” Felps nods along, and it feels patronising.
But Fit is pretty sure if he keeps talking he’s just going to dig himself a bigger hole. So, he sighs. Wipes a hand over his face in a vain attempt at getting rid of his blush.
“Listen,” he sighs again, “if you’re happy to be here then—Well, that’s all I wanted to know, okay?”
“You don’t care about the rosary?” Felps asks.
“The—?” He sighs. Again. “Pac!”
Pac immediately opens the door, and pops into view. He’s cleaned up nicely. If it wasn’t for some drops of red on his collar, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was just sucking someone’s blood.
“Yes?”
“Can you come here?”
Pac grins, and bounces over. He’s got a wet cloth in his hand—probably for Felps, because there is still blood on his neck. He throws himself onto the bed next to Felps, and leans into him.
“What’s happening?”
Fit fiddles with the rosary for a moment. Then holds it out.
“Can you touch this?”
Pac’s eyes go wide as he stares at it.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, Felps doesn’t think it works.” Fit huffs out. “I wanted to test it.”
Pac’s eyes flicker to Felps’, and Felps grabs his hand and squeezes it.
“Trust me?” Felps murmurs.
“I—I dunno, that’s…” Pac sucks in a breath. Then detangles his hand from Felps’, and reaches it out shakily towards the rosary. He gets about a centimetre away before he pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “Oh—Wait, what—?”
Pac makes contact with it.
And nothing happens.
Fit’s blood turns to ice in his veins.
Pac stares up at him with wide eyes. Fit quickly twists to hold the rosary out to Felps.
“Hey, so, can you—“
Before he can even finish, Felps grabs it and mutters something under his breath. For a brief moment, it goes hot under Fit’s touch, and Pac honest to god hisses—recoiling back.
“Uh… thanks.”
What the fuck?
“Wh-Why did you do that?” Pac wails. “Felps!”
“He was nice to me.” Felps says with a shrug.
Fit just stares at him.
“I’m… I’m trying to kill your boyfriends.” Fit reminds him.
“You can’t kill them with a rosary.” Felps says with a laugh.
“Yeah, but it’ll still hurt.”
Wait, why the fuck is he defending Pac? This whole situation is just—it’s way too confusing. Forget what Pac wants to talk to him about, he needs to leave now.
“I can just fix it.” Felps is saying as Fit starts backing away towards the door.
“Wait, Fit!”
Pac gets off the bed, trailing after him. Fit’s back hits the door, and he scrambles for the door handle, and—Shit. Locked. Fucking Mike.
Pac is now in front of him—leaning into him. He’s not quite touching. He’s just standing there. On the tips of toes to even out their height difference, sure, but Fit isn’t being pinned to the door, or trapped with Pac’s arms on either side of him, or anything.
And yet Fit is frozen in place.
This close, Fit can see every little detail on Pac’s face. He finds his brain categorising that, instead of trying to figure out a way out of this weird not-pin.
It’s not even like this is the first time they’ve been this close. But all those other times they were fighting. Now, Pac’s just smiling up at him—his bottom lip creasing a little where the fangs press into it.
“What?” Fit chokes out. They’ve been staring at each other for way too long. “What do you want?”
Dangerous question. Dangerous fucking question. Pac’s eyes dip down to his lips—further even: down to his neck.
“I want…” Pac’s eyes flick back up to meet his. “To talk.”
Before he can respond, Pac takes a step back. Fit lets himself breathe.
“Agh, see!” Pac hurries back over to Felps. “This is why I had to feed b-before.”
“Yeah.” Felps says as he tilts his head to expose his neck, and Pac starts wiping it down with the cloth. “Wow.”
Fit feels distinctly lightheaded. He stays leant up against the door and tries to regain his composure.
At least Pac seems pretty focused on his task. When he’s finished mopping up the—mostly dried by now—blood, he presses a kiss to what Fit assumes is the bite marks. Then he cleans the smear on Felps’ cheek.
“Obrigado.” Felps says with a soft smile, before leaning in to kiss Pac.
It’s not exactly chaste, but they’re not really making out in front of Fit, either. When Felps pulls away, Pac chases his lips to press another quick kiss to them.
Then he climbs off the bed, and directs his attention towards Fit again. Luckily, Fit can once again stand up without the door’s support.
“Okay, Fit—I made, uh… food. Human food.” Pac reaches past him to knock on the door. “You like food, right?”
“I… yeah?”
“Okay, good!” Pac turns back to Felps. “Bye, Felps! You’ll be okay?”
“Sim.” Felps shuffles backwards so he can get under the covers. “Diga ao Mike para trazer o Cellbit aqui.”
“Tá.” Pac opens the door, and gestures for him to walk through first. “Okay, Fit, let’s go!”
Mike immediately recoils from him.
“What happened?” Mike asks, pointing at the rosary. “That’s strong.”
The door closes behind them.
“Felps did it.” Fit says. Then he turns to Pac. “You’re not mad at him for that, are you?”
“Oh, no.” Pac shrugs. “It’s good that he did that. I don’t want you getting hurt by some other vampire, you know?”
“Right.”
Sweet sentiment, but…
Pac grins, and it’s all teeth.
“That’s for me to do, you know?”
There it is.
Of course. Fit sighs.
Well, he supposes it’s fair. He’s trying to kill Pac, too.
“Okay.”
Pac leans towards Mike, and whispers something to him. Fit doesn’t bother trying to overhear it—they’re probably speaking in Portuguese, anyway.
Mike nods. Casts one long, last look at Fit, before disappearing into the maze of hallways. Pac grabs his wrist—a lot lighter than Mike’s grip on his arm from before—and drags him off into a different direction.
---
and then they go talk. honestly, i'm not really sure what about and i don't want to make something up in case i want to pick this up later when i have a better idea of the details (that being said please keep in mind what i said above…). apologies for any bad portuguese
final note: cellbit is only mentioned once and that's because they're trying to keep his existence hidden from fit. felps just figured he wouldn't be able to tell "cellbit" was a name if he spoke in portuguese (and he was correct)
hope you guys enjoyed \o/ comments in the tags are very appreciated too!
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