Apparently I go here now?

And it’s not like, a subtle coming back. Gabe knocks on his door that evening, comes in before Tyson even has a chance to welcome him in (Tyson does anyway, talking loudly to the air outside the door how just because vampires can’t come in without asking doesn’t mean humans have a license to just barge in, willy nilly; Gabe ignores him).  

“I noticed you didn’t have any blood stocked,” Gabe informs him, already rummaging in his fridge; Tyson gapes a little as Gabe shoves aside all of Tyson’s fresh food--he can manage a farmer’s market, with some fancy umbrella work--to put in bags that look like they’ve come from a butcher. “What were you going to do if you got hungry?” 

That sets off another argument, and it ends in Tyson storming out this time, before he remembers it’s his house and he turns around to kick Gabe out instead. 

Thus begins the tale of Tyson, worst vampire ever, according to Gabe, and Gabe, who has decided he’s going to fix him.  Gabe whirls into Tyson’s life and just doesn’t leave, and Tyson can sort of admit that there are some perks--having blood around is good, he guesses, and having someone who can pick him up if he stays out too late (or make sure he doesn’t stay out too late) is probably the sort of thing that Nate would advise him to do, if he wasn’t fucking around somewhere on the plains and had been for the last decade. 

And, like. Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world, to have someone stick around. Tyson’s not lonely, because he hangs out with people all the time, but none fo them know--none of them are there, really. None of them stay.  And all his vampire friends are scattered around the globe, and it’s just not the same as having a ridiculously attractive human bullying him around his house and laughing at his jokes. 

One day, they have a conversation--Gabe’s a little snappy, because maybe Tyson was flirting with the wrong person and maybe their boyfriend had some silver on him and maybe he also decided getting Tyson into sunlight was a good idea, which Tyson had strongly disagreed with. Anyway, he was fine, but Gabe was all worked up, and when he got worked up he got mother henny and sort of angry. 

“Why do you even take these risks?” Gabe demands, as he shoves some blood into Tyson’s hands in his favorite mug. “You’re immortal, you won’t ever die if you didn’t do stupid shit.” 

Tyson’s still a little drunk, and also he’s never been a good lier, so, “What’s the point of an immortal life if you don’t live it?” he asks, too honest, and then maybe Gabe says something or maybe he doesn’t, maybe Tyson’s just a mopey drunk, because then he’s telling a story about a boy who loved the sun, who wanted nothing more than to move to a beach where he could bask in it all day, and of a father who made the wrong enemies.  Gabe looks at him oddly when he’s done, which Tyson waves away as just the usual reaction to his not-really a sob story. It’s whatever. He’s fine. But he’s not going to hide away just because life through some fangs at him. 

Gabe doesn’t stop nagging him after that, but it’s different, maybe. He’s a little more likely to humor Tyson. He gives Tyson weird looks sometimes, something half-confused, half...well. If Tyson were someone else, if Tyson were human, he’d say that look was yearning. 

But Tyson’s not human, and Tyson might be the worst vampire ever, but he’s over 100 years old. He’s lived what was once two human lifetimes already. A generation he knew and loved has lived and died, and Tyson is still here. He knows what it feels like, to love something that ages and dies, and Tyson might want to live but that’s a pain he doesn’t need to invite. So he decided he’s misinterpreting the looks, and if he’s in love with Gabe, no one has to know that except him and Nate, who knows everything and is threatening to come visit just to meet this new person in Tyson’s life. 

Time goes on. Gabe keeps doing his nagging thing with Tyson. Tyson determinedly does not notice any way Gabe might be looking at him, and maybe misses a thing or two in that determined ignorance--the way Gabe sits down sometimes, out of nowhere. How Gabe is sleeping longer than usual. How Gabe has appointments more, things he doesn’t tell Tyson about. 

Then the hunters come. 

And like, Tyson can usually deal with the hunters. They’re generally fairly reasonable people who want to keep vampires who’ve gone feral or are actually bad people in line, and Tyson’s all for that. Maybe he’d like some more due process than vampires are given now before their heads are cut off, but no one’s asking him, and his head isn’t cut off yet, so he hasn’t suggested anything.  But these hunters--these hunters are fanatics, which is irritating, and they don’t listen to reason, and long story short Tyson actually has to fight, which he is historically not good at. 

He gets away, anyway, and he’s pretty sure the hunters aren’t going to be an issue anymore because he’s proved there’s easier prey than him, but he’s really fucking hurt. The sort of hurt he hates because it burns in him, through him, until the humanity he tries so hard to keep a handle on is only a thin veil under the parts of him that are just bloodlust and animal need. 

That’s how Gabe finds him, when he lets himself into Tyson’s house like it’s just a normal evening, except Tyson’s huddled in a corner half-mad with bloodlust and using everything in him to keep himself inside and away from anyone he could hurt. Tyson warns him away, because this is bad enough that it’s going to take a lot of blood and time to get better, because animal blood long from the body just isn’t the same, but Gabe just looks at him, and holds out his wrist. 

Tyson’s still enough himself to resist, and tell him no, that he won’t, that he will not be the monster, but Gabe insists. “This is me offering, and trusting you won’t take more than you need,” Gabe tells him, clear-eyed, and Tyson hates himself, hates the hunters who forced him into this, hates everything about it, but he grabs Gabe’s wrist and bites. 

It doesn’t hurt the human, Tyson knows, vaguely remembers, because docile prey is easy prey. So Gabe’s gasp isn’t pain, but that’s all Tyson knows, as he drinks. 

Except--it’s easy, to pull away, when he’s had enough. He wipes his mouth, and looks up at Gabe, who’s swaying a little. More than he should be; Tyson knows he hadn’t taken a dangerous amount. He’s not that bad a vampire. 

He licks his lips. Tastes Gabe’s blood again. He really isn’t that bad a vampire. “You’re dying,” he says, and Gabe looks for a second like he’s going to try to protest, so Tyson goes on, “I can taste it. It’s in your blood.” 

There isn’t much Gabe can say to that. He is dying, after all, his body slowly giving out on itself. He knows that. Now Tyson does too. 

Tyson stands, and looks at him.  He’s not stupid. “You want me to bite you.” 

“You just did bite me,” Gabe points out, angry in the way that means he’s defensive. 

Tyson bares his fangs.  They still have Gabe’s blood on them. “Not for real. Not like you want. What, were you going to bribe me? Starve me to death until I’d have no choice but to bite? Or--” and there it is, the memory of those looks. “Seduce me?” 

Gabe opens his mouth, all blown up like he’s going to protest, but Tyson can see the truth in his eyes. And it’s--Gabe’s not the first person Tyson’s met who wants him to bite them. There have been a handful before, people who see the glamour, see eternal life and health and think they want it, and will do anything to get it.  

Gabe’s not the first person to break Tyson’s heart, either, but hey. That one never gets old, apparently. 

So Gabe leaves. Well. Tyson snaps and bares his teeth and turns his back until Gabe huffs and leaves anyway, muttering about how Tyson won’t listen to reason. Tyson ignores that too. Maybe all those vampires who hid from humans in their caves and dust were right. It’s easier. 

Gabe doesn’t come back the next day. Which is fine. Tyson’s not going to bite him, and he knows it, so he’s got to go find some other vampire to do that. Tyson wishes, suddenly, for some sort of vampire phone tree to make sure everyone knows not to bite Gabe in his stupid handsome neck. Because they don’t have a phone tree, he compromises by calling Nate instead. (”I could come back and just kill him,” Nate offers, very earnestly. Tyson loves his best friend, but he thinks that maybe it’s about time for him to connect to society again instead of living off with horses and vampires). 

Anyway, Gabe keeps on not coming back, so fuck him. Tyson doesn’t need him. Tyson goes back out and keeps doing his thing, and maybe he’s a little reckless but whatever, he thinks it’s justified, even humans go crazy when their heart’s been broken.  So he parties and drinks and only almost catches on fire like twice, and never entirely runs out of blood thank you very much Gabe, and he’s fine. 

Then he gets a call. It’s in the middle of the day, so it wakes him up, and from a number he doesn’t recognize, but Tyson’s always liked living on the edge so he picks up. He has the time to talk to telemarketers. 

Except it’s not a telemarketer--it’s Gabe’s sister. And she’s telling him that Gabe’s in the hospital, and she thinks he should know because Gabe talks about him all the time and they might be in a fight but--

She’s still talking when Tyson starts swearing, because he’d forgotten it was daylight out when he’d started to rush outside. 

Anyway, it takes some maneuvering and some creative use of tarps, a garbage can, and precisely three plastic bags that someone had left in Tyson’s car approximately a decade ago, but he makes it to Gabe’s bedside. He’s sitting up and not actively dying--Tyson can taste it in the air--but the part of Tyson that can sense the weakest prey in a pack is pricking up, too. 

Luckily, he’s alone, because Tyson is maybe steaming a little when he gets in. Gabe stares at him, blinks, then looks very pointedly at the window and the sun streaming in. “You,” he tells Tyson, “Are definitely the world’s shittiest vampire.” 

That sets off a whole argument again, part of it Gabe’s well-worn scolds about Tyson’s habits, more of it about how Gabe was trying to get Tyson to bite him, and the part of it neither of them say about how Gabe left. 

But it all circles back to Gabe’s original plan, and how he was going to try to bribe Tyson, or starve him, or something, and Tyson gets mad at him, about why he would want this life, he sees what it is, and Gabe just sort of looks at him and asks, “What’s the point of a life if you can’t live it?” Which is a shitty low blow, and Tyson tells him so. 

But he also tells him--like, he’s seen that before. He’s seen the people desperate to be turned, and what it turns to too often, the anger and bitterness at their sires, when it isn’t what they wanted. They don’t tell you how most vampires don’t make it past 80 or so. 

“You did.” 

“Yeah well, you always say I’m a shitty vampire.” 

Gabe looks like he’s going to argue that, but he decides not to. Instead, he looks at Tyson, and there’s the same bravery there, the same trust, that made him barge into Tyson’s life in the first place, that made him put his wrist to a predator’s mouth. “You really are,” he agrees. “That’s the other reason.” 

“Reason for what?” 

“For why you should bite me,” Gabe tells him. “You need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself burned to ashes.”

Tyson considers arguing that he’d kept himself undead for the better part of a century, but Gabe gives the sunlight in the windows another pointed look. “If I wasn’t going to turn you for any of your other bribes, I don’t think unwillingly binding yourself to me is going to work,” Tyson points out, a little offended. Hating himself a little, for how the idea of Gabe there felt. “We’d already gotten past indentured servitude when I was born, and from what grandma said, that was a good thing.” 

“Who said anything about unwilling?” Gabe asks, eyes clear and sure, and the blood dries in Tyson’s mouth. 

They go a few more rounds, probably, because Tyson can’t accept that and Gabe can’t accept his not accepting it, until Gabe finally gets fed up and pulls Tyson over to kiss him. 

Then they have a few more rounds to go, but--Tyson stays until it’s dark, and then he keeps staying. 

He doesn’t bite him. Not then. Not when human science is doing well enough. Instead, Gabe goes back to nagging at Tyson and Tyson starts doing his best to make sure Gabe’s taking advantage of the life he has, and also maybe uses his superhuman abilities to like, make things easier for Gabe. And also for sex, because Tyson’s got 100 years of experience. 

And then--then, when human science starts to fail, when Tyson starts to taste death in the air, and Gabe still looks at Tyson and smiles and nods, sure--then Tyson lets himself give in.  

Epilogue: 20 years later, and Gabe is coming back from one of his trips, because immortal life is great and also gives perspective on things like ‘I love you but maybe we should spend a few years away from each other before we kill each other’ and finds Tyson huddled in a corner, trying to keep out of the sun because he’s just wearing a bathing suit. 

“How are you still so bad at this?” Gabe asks, running over--because he is dressed properly, thank you very much--and Tyson grins at him before he kisses him hello. 

Gabe has to take a few deep breaths, but he gets out that he doesn’t see how it’s his business, anymore. Mitch gets even quieter, but then, he eventually gets out that the thing is, well, the doctors says they aren’t supposed to tell Tyson anything? That it’ll be better for him to recover on his own? And they already accidentally broke the trade thing and they aren’t supposed to do anything else big and a breakup is very big and it’s the Avs by week anyway so can’t he just...come up and hang out while Tyson recovers? Gabe’s ready to say no, for his own mental health, but then Mitch adds, “I know you guys broke up, but don’t you care about him at all?” and it sounds like a challenge and Gabe can’t say no. 

Which is how Gabe gets conned into spending his by week with his amnesiac ex-boyfriend who thinks they’re still together. 

It’s just as bad as it sounds. 

It’s not like they ended things because they hated each other now. They had even meant to stay together after the trade, had made plans about Skype dates and when to visit and everything. It just got--hard. it wasn’t like the summer, when they both had time to call; they were both busy all the time. And Tyson was working on making bonds with his new team, which Gabe got, but it meant less time for calls, for Gabe. And maybe Gabe didn’t handle it the best, watching Tyson be Tyson at people other than him, in articles and on social media, when Tyson wasn’t also there to bitch him out about being a dick and then slap him on the ass as they were making dinner. 

So, anyway--the long distance thing didn’t work. And they broke up. None of which meant Gabe didn’t care about Tyson anymore, or that seeing Tyson smile at him from the hospital bed, that big bright smile with just a hint of a tease in it, hit him any less hard. Or that he maybe didn’t get a bit choked up as Tyson started in on him for taking so long to get here, he could have died, Gabriel, and then the last thing Gabe would have said to him would have been--well, he didn’t remember, but he was sure it was mean and Gabe would have regretted it. 

Gabe takes Tyson back to his house. Gabe pretends that he’s been in Tyson’s house before, and that he’s not just guessing where things are as much as Tyson is. Gabe endures all of the Leafs’ suspicious looks at him when Tyson’s not around, like they think he’s going to fuck up and hurt Tyson. Fuck them all, Gabe thinks sulkily, he’s loved Tyson longer than any of them. Gabe puts off any sex or anything ostensibly because Tyson’s injured but really because that’s sketchy as hell and also it might kill him. It’s also killing him to play at domesticity with Tyson, like nothing ever happened, like they never died not with a bang but with a whimper (not even a real bang, Tyson had said, on something that was terribly unlike a laugh, because of fucking course Tyson was in Toronto). 

But the thing is--Tyson is not an idiot, and Tyson knows Gabe. Tyson can tell something is Up. Like, he gets Gabe wouldn’t want to fuck him when he’s injured, but Gabe doesn’t touch him any more than necessary. Gabe looks at him sometimes like he misses him, and Tyson’s not saying that it couldn’t be, like, Gabe missing the him with his memories, but it’s only been a year, and that’s coming back slowly. Tyson’s pretty sure he’s the same person. Something else is happening, something that clearly fucked Gabe up, and Tyson’s not going to just let that go. 

So he starts to push, because that’s what he does. He pushes, bit by bit, an experiment in what Gabe’ll let him, and Gabe battles every moment with his better self not just to give in to what Tyson wants. 

The by week ends. Tyson’s memory is still patchy, but the doctors say there’s nothing more that they can do, so he goes back to practice. And then there’s nothing more for Gabe to do, so he goes home. 

But--Tyson still hasn’t remembered, and Gabe just...doesn’t tell him. It’d still be bad for Tyson, Gabe tells himself. He can’t tell. (Nate sideeyes the shit out of him for that, but he falls into line because he doesn’t want to mess with Tyson’s brain).  So for the first real time, they do the long distance thing. 

And it’s...easier, this time. It’s working. Gabe’s not as weird about it, when Tyson’s calling him more; he can handle it more, when Tyson’s calling more, putting in the effort. Still no sex, which is requiring more and more creative excuses from Gabe (and a lot more jerking off from him), but--it’s good. 

Until Tyson starts getting weird. Or weirder, anyway. He starts pushing more, and a little less in his usual tease and more in something that looks like how he gets on the ice, hard and determined. His teasing starts getting more pointed too, dancing around Gabe’s jealousy and his occasional neediness and how he reacts when he’s insecure. 

It takes Gabe a while, but finally, one day when they’re playing each other or something so they’re in the same place, and he can finally actually see all of Tyson, Tyson says something or makes a face or reacts, and it it clicks. 

“You remember!” Gabe accuses him, and Tyson throws his hands up. 

“Of course I fucking remember,” he snaps backs, “No thanks to you!” 

Because Tyson remembers, and--it explained way more than it doesn’t, but...Tyson doesn’t get mad often, but he gets mad at this. He gets the first bit, when he was brain-damaged and confused and everyone was treating him with kid gloves, but now Gabe just like decided to gaslight him into still acting like Gabe was his boyfriend and was probably laughing at him all the time for it, poor pathetic Tyson who was still hung up on his ex. Clearly the only way to deal with it was to gaslight him back. 

(Offscreen, Nate: I really don’t think that’s the best way to handle this. 

Tyson: No, that’s definitely the only option.)

So they fight, and it circles around to Gabe, angry and hurt and missing what they had already, admitting on mostly a yell, that he didn’t tell Tyson because, “It let me pretend you still loved me!” 

That takes the winds out of Tyson’s sails, and it gets them to talk. Finally. About the break up, and what caused it--about what a bad place Tyson had been in, how fucked he was over the trade and the move, and how maybe he had taken that out on Gabe, how he had retreated because he couldn’t handle it. About how maybe Gabe hadn’t been as vocal as he should have been about how badly he was taking the trade and the move and the long distance and, most of all, Tyson retreating. About how bad it was for them when they were far away and Gabe couldn’t bully Tyson into actually talking about his feelings and Tyson couldn’t really believe Gabe’s comfort. About Gabe’s jealousy, and Tyson’s carelessness with it, and how it had grown. About all the little things they’d let balloon until they ended here. 

And then: “But it’s been good, right?” Tyson asks, sounding small. “What we’ve been doing?” 

And the thing is, the thing Gabe had been holding onto too hard is: it has been. It’s been good. It’s worked. So he agrees, and then--Tyson’s looking at him, with that hint of a smile on his face, half a dare and half a question, and sometimes Gabe thinks he’s never not been in love with him. He definitely didn’t get over him. So, “Yeah,” he agrees, to the thing Tyson isn’t asking, “This time could be different.” 

“Good,” Tyson tells him, and that inserts himself onto Gabe’s lap, “Because you’ve been very nobly not having sex with me but it’s been giving me the biggest case of blue balls so you owe me like, 6 months of fucking.” 

“Right now?” Gabe asks dryly, like he’s not grabbing Tyson’s ass, because it’s been even harder on him, he remembered the time apart. “Can you even handle that?” 

“Can you?” Tyson retorts, but the rest of his retort is swallowed by Gabe finally, finally, kissing him again. 

(It’s not 6 months worth of sex, that night, but it’s a lot of pent up energy they’ve both been carrying).