#horromance

wordcount: 340

He gave them only a half-second's notice before pressing the splint against the broken bone and strapping it tightly in place.

"MotherFUCKER," they swore, gritting their teeth against the pain.

Lucien was surprisingly gentle. He handled them like a porcelain doll, careful not to cause anymore undue injury, though it was difficult with a compound fracture this bad. Blood soaked through the binding, and there was a lump where the broken bone jutted out of Damien's leg that made them feel sick. They swayed slightly - was that the vertigo he had mentioned, or the blood loss? Either way, Lucien was quick to bundle them back up in his arms.

He carried them out of the lab and through the foyer, back into the kitchen and out the door into the garage, where he buckled them into the front passenger seat of a sleek black car before hopping in the driver's seat. Damien closed their eyes and let their head fall back against the headrest, trying to fight down the nausea.

The drive to the hospital was spent in silence, not because Damien didn't want to talk - they had a million questions they wanted to ask - but because Lucien took the narrow, winding mountain road, and then the highway after, at a breakneck speed.

"Can you maybe slow down a bit?" Damien asked, heart pounding in their chest as the world flew by outside the window.

They gripped the edge of the seat with white knuckles.

"And leave you in pain for longer than necessary?" Lucien replied. "Absolutely not."

"Don't you think a hundred miles per hour is a bit excessive?"

He laughed, exposing those sharp teeth.

"This car goes much faster, darling. Don't worry, I'm a very good driver," he promised. "We're not going to crash."

Damien tried to focus on the black dash, the red leather seats, the scent of the vanilla air freshener. At least his blood wouldn't stain the seats too badly. The car slowed as they entered the city, and familiar buildings rose up around them. Lucien smiled and looked Damien's way, feeling smug about his exceptional driving skills. Damien, however, was passed out cold.

"Damn…" Lucien sighed.

Fortunately, the nearest hospital was only ten minutes away. There was a part of his brain that was thankful Damien had passed out. They probably wouldn't have approved of his city driving any more than they did his highway and mountain driving. The car skid to a halt in front of the hospital, and he wasted no time in tossing the keys to the valet and carefully pulling Damien from the passenger seat. He carried them inside and up to the reception desk. The lady there smiled at him, and then frowned when she saw the state Damien was in.

"They have a badly broken leg," Lucien explained. "Compound fracture, bone sticking out of the skin. That kind."

"Oh, goodness, okay."

She scrambled to gather the required forms.

"Is she passed out, or sleeping?" she asked.

He ignored the use of incorrect pronoun.

"They passed out about ten minutes ago, just as we were pulling into the city. I can fill out the paperwork."

"Right. Okay."

A nurse in soft blue scrubs approached with a smile and a rolling bed.

"I can take them," he said.

Lucien placed them gently on the bed.

"Do you need my help getting them into a gown?" he asked.

"I don't think so," the nurse assured him.

He took a look at Damien's leg.

"Did you stabilize this?"

Lucien nodded.

"This looks professionally done. Were you at another hospital already?" the nurse asked.

"No, but I have supplies at home. I stabilized it myself."

"You did a good job. Alright, I'll take them back. They'll need surgery to fix the leg, and his doctor will probably want to keep him for observation for at least 24 hours-"

"I'll stick around," Lucien said firmly. "Just in case."

"Surgery is going to take a while, and then they'll need to recover. They may not be ready for visitors until tomorrow."

"All the same," he insisted.

After some hesitation, the nurse finally left with Damien. Lucien settled himself in one of the waiting room's many uncomfortable chairs. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. The bright fluorescent lights hurt his sensitive eyes, and the din of the hospital quickly became overstimulating. Lucien was used to the chaos of his night club. The music and people were loud, sure, but it was his music, and the people were having fun. In here, he could hear every beeping heart monitor, every humming machine, every crying mother, every cough, every wheeze, every hushed conversation. He tried to distract himself by wandering. He read every sign in the waiting room, admired the cheap artwork, browsed the gift shop… He even sat hunched over and counted the spots and specks in each white floor tile. He hated hospitals. It was why he hadn't decided to pursue a career in medicine, despite knowing everything there was to know about it.

Finally, when there was nothing left to occupy his mind, he made his way outside. He took in a few lungfuls of the evening city air and wrinkled his nose against the stench. And this is why I prefer the forest, he thought bitterly. Hot asphalt, car exhaust, old fry oil. Honking horns, shouting, music from multiple nearby shops overlaying each other. Humans are such a mess.

He shook his head, went back inside, and found the patience to wait a little longer. The sky out the window across from him was painted in shades of purple and gold when an announcement came over the intercom, telling guests that visitation was almost over. He checked his watch. 7:45pm. Damien should have been out of surgery and in recovery by now. Even if they weren't awake, someone should have come out to inform Lucien of how the procedure went. He rose, and made his way to the front desk.

"Excuse me," he greeted the receptionist.

She turned to him with a smile, looking much more tired than she had earlier.

"Do you know if my friend is out of surgery yet?" he inquired politely.

"What's the name?" she asked.

"Damien Cross."

"Damien…" she mumbled as she searched the screen. "Yep, it looks like he's out of surgery and in recovery."

And they hadn't notified him? That wasn't a good sign.

"Can you tell me what room they're in, please?"

She regarded the screen once more.

"They are in… room 506. But, visitation is almost over."

"I'll be quick."

He didn't give her time to protest before he turned and his long legs carried him to the elevator, and then he was up and away. The fifth floor was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be for a vampire. The noises were louder up here where the patients were. Heart monitors, heartbeats, the drip of an IV, the puff of oxygen from a nasal cannula, quiet whispering, soft tears, and some poor family being told that their loved one didn't make it through surgery. He could hear it all. He'd learned to ignore it, to push it into the background. There was only one heartbeat he was interested in hearing right now, and that was Damien's.

He stopped in front of room 506, reached for the door handle… and paused. Someone was talking to Damien.

"Did he push you?" they asked quietly.

It was a man's voice. The doctor?

"No, I told you," Damien responded. "I fell. I was running through the woods and I didn't see the drop off in front of me."

"Were you running from him?" the other voice asked.

Damien let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, kid. I can't help ya if you don't talk to me."

Lucien pushed the door open and stepped in. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on the bedside table, and the window was cracked to let in the cool late-evening breeze. He closed the door quietly behind him and strode up to the bed.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked, meeting the surprised gaze of a cop, not a doctor.

"Lucien-" Damien began, but the officer interrupted.

"You're the one who brought her in?" he asked, misgendering Damien for the second time that day.

Lucien heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked at his new partner with equal parts amusement and faux pity.

"Oh, my dear Damien," he purred. "Didn't I warn you about talking to strangers?"

In a blink, he was behind the officer, one hand around his chest, the other on his forehead. He twisted, pulled, and with a sickening crunching sound, snapped the man's neck. Lucien tossed his body into the nearest chair, where he slumped, lifeless, his head at an odd angle. Damien stared wide-eyed.

"What the fuck, Lucien? I didn't tell him anything! You just fucking killed a man in cold blood."

Lucien smoothed down his suit jacket.

"I've done far worse," he promised. "And I understand. You have to test me, that's only natural. I told you I would kill anyone who got in my way. You had to see if I was all bark and no bite."

Horrified, they stared at the body in the corner, unable to look away. One second that man was alive and talking, and the next…

"You're a monster…" they breathed.

"I've also been called far worse. Come now, it's time to go." He rested his hand on Damien's good leg. "Are you going to come willingly, or am I going to have to break this one, too?"

Damien swallowed hard. With shaking hands, they threw back the blanket. They didn't dare snap at Lucien when he helped them sit up on the edge of the bed. Five minutes ago, they might've thought that he was bluffing when he said he'd break their other leg. Now, though, they knew that he was all bite. Lucien took their hand and tried to pull them up.

"Wait, I…. They didn't give me any crutches or anything."

"I have some at home you can use."

"I can't walk out of here. And you are not throwing me over your shoulder."

"No? Do you want to test that?" he smirked.

"And draw attention to us?" Damien challenged cautiously.

Lucien chuckled.

"Alright, alright. There are some wheelchairs at the end of the hall by the elevator. I'll go grab one." He found Damien's clothes - what little there were - in a bag near the body. He offered it to them and told them to get dressed, then made his way to the door. Before opening it, he stopped and looked back. "You," he pointed at Damien. "Stay."

They gestured to their broken leg, all bound up in a chunky cast, with a look that said, "What, do you think I'm going to jump out the window?" They did their best to ignore the body and the bile rising in their throat while they pulled on the fluffy - and now very dirty - pink sweater. Lucien returned with a wheelchair while they were trying to get their boxer-briefs on over the cast, and they quickly dropped them to cover themself when he came in.

"Oh, don't be so demure," he rolled his eyes. "I'm going to see far more than that eventually."

"Thanks for reminding me…" Damien mumbled.

"Here, let me help."

Lucien picked up their underwear from the floor and helped them get their bad leg through the hole, then turned to give them some privacy while they did the rest.

"What about…?" they gestured toward the corpse as Lucien helped them into the wheelchair.

"They'll find him when they come to check on you," he answered.

"So, they'll find him and not me. Don't you think they'll know exactly what happened and like… put a bounty on you or something?"

He chuckled.

"Darling, I've had a bounty on me since I became a vampire. I'm not worried."

Damn. They were hoping this nightmare was going to have a silver lining. Lucien gave them the blanket from the bed, which they draped over their bare lap, and then wheeled them out. They were torn between wanting someone to stop them and save them as Lucien pushed them leisurely through the lobby, and hoping that no one else would get in his way and suffer the same fate as the cop. He bid the man behind the reception desk - who had just replaced the young woman for his shift - a good night, and then they were standing outside of the hospital in the warm summer night air. The valet brought the car around, and it took all of Damien's willpower not to fight back as Lucien helped them into the passenger seat, and not to scream as the car pulled out and headed back toward the manor.

"Hey, um… Do you think we could swing by my apartment?" Damien asked before they got too far. "If I'm going to be staying with you, there are a few things I'd like to grab."

"A few things, like your phone and laptop?" Lucien asked.

"Yes. But not to try and escape! Just to have something to entertain me."

"The ancient manor full of mystery, wonder, and thousands of books isn't enough to entertain you?"

"Well, I mean, I-"

Lucien laughed, interrupting them.

"I'm only teasing you, darling. Yes, we can go to your apartment, but your phone and laptop aren't there."

"What do you mean?" they asked. "You have them?"

"I do. I was going to give them to you after lunch, but you took off before I could."

"Oh," was all they managed to say.

"I have your tablet, too," he continued. "As well as some of your favorite books, decorations, and clothes. I was going to give them to you as a show of good faith, but after that daring stunt of yours, I think you'll need to earn them."

Damien felt numb. In trying to escape, had they fucked up completely and made things worse?

"Earn them how?" they asked quietly.

"By behaving," Lucien answered flatly. "By showing me that I can trust you not to act like a stray dog."

They tried to subtly wipe a tear that welled over and ran down their cheek, but it was difficult to hide anything from Lucien. He sighed and glanced over at them, and they turned away to fix their gaze out the window. The tall buildings and bright lights thinned, and then faded away, taking with them Damien's hope of being saved . When trees finally replaced skyscrapers, they spoke again.

"I didn't tell them anything. The doctors. Or the officer. I didn't need to; they already knew who you were."

"Did they?" Lucien smirked. "How interesting."

"Do you think that's… funny?" they asked, brow creased in confusion.

"Yes, I suppose I do. Amusing, and flattering. After one-hundred years, I thought they would've forgotten about me. Humans have such short memories, after all. But it seems I made enough of an impression on someone that I'm still on their wanted list."

"And that doesn't concern you?"

"No," he smiled. "Like I said; humans are no threat to me."

Damien wasn't so sure, and dared to allow a flicker of hope. If his last dealing with humans was one-hundred years ago, then perhaps he didn't know what advances had been made in that time. Perhaps he was underestimating them. Perhaps humans were more of a threat than Lucien knew, and Damien could find help somewhere. They just had to bide their time.

The road narrowed, the trees thickened, and they made the climb up the mountain in silence. Damien must have dozed off, because they woke to Lucien nudging them awake in the garage.

"We're home," he said quietly.

Damien yawned, confused for a moment about where they were. They groaned when they wiped the sleep from their eyes and realized that their nightmare was still a reality.

"Chin up," Lucien smiled, and came around to help them out of their seat.

He hooked his arms beneath their knees and behind their back, but they pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

"I can walk," they growled.

He stopped and glanced down at their leg.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, brow raised.

"I don't need you to baby me," they pushed him again, and this time he stepped back. "I'll hobble."

Lucien chuckled and shook his head.

"If you insist on doing it yourself, I have some crutches you can use. Just sit tight."

Damien didn't sit tight. As Lucien went to search for the crutches, they carefully maneuvered their broken leg out of the car, and then put their weight on the other while they used their hands to pull themself out and up. They hopped out of the way of the door to close it, and managed to make it all the way to the front of the car when Lucien returned.

"You couldn't sit still for five seconds?" he asked.

"I've had a broken leg before," Damien told him. "I managed just fine."

Lucien sighed and handed them the crutches, which they pushed away.

"Damien," he said sternly. "Just because you can manage on your own doesn't mean you have to. Please, use the crutches. I won't help any further."

They glared at him through tired eyes before finally relenting and accepting aid. Lucien had somehow already sized them properly, and he stepped out of the way to allow Damien up the two steps out of the garage and into the kitchen. They sighed once back inside. There were a lot of stairs in this house.

"Shall I show you back to your room?" Lucien asked, gesturing with an open hand to the hall.

"I remember where it is," Damien grumbled.

They were out of practice with crutches, but made their way slowly and surely back into the main foyer, and then up the leftmost staircase, back around the balcony, and up the smaller set of stairs that doubled back on themselves to lead up to the third floor. Lucien followed the whole way. He kept his distance while still making sure he was close enough to catch Damien if they should stumble.

"I'll leave you now," he said finally when they were safely in their suite. "I trust you can settle in well enough without my help. Goodnight, Damien."

They shuffled their way toward the bedroom without answering, and then stopped with a heavy groan.

"Wait, Lucien."

The vampire was at their side in an instant, looking down at them with big eyes, much like how a dog looks up at its master while it awaits a new command.

"If I'm staying here, can you help me move the bed against the wall?"

Lucien smiled softly.

"Of course," he nodded. "Whatever will help you feel comfortable."

"The walls of my apartment would make me feel comfortable," Damien quipped.

"These walls will feel like home soon enough," he promised. "Especially if you take the time to make the space your own."

Damien didn't want to make the space their own. They didn't want to feel comfortable here. They wanted to go home. Lucien lead the way into the bedroom, and Damien rested against the back of the couch while he moved the bed over, pressing it into the corner.

"Better?" he asked when it was positioned properly.

They were tempted to say "no" and make him move it again, and again, and again. How many times would he oblige, they wondered, before getting frustrated?

"It's fine," they said instead and hopped past him.

"I'll leave you, then," he repeated his line from before. "Goodnight, Damien."

Damien offered a halfhearted wave, but didn't turn to say a proper goodnight. They waited until he was gone and the door was closed to flop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. It would be much easier to think of this place as a prison if it didn't look like a palace and their captor didn't treat them so kindly.

Just remember what he plans to do to you, the little voice in their head reminded them.

"Thanks brain," they mumbled. "That's just what I wanted to think about right now."