Mellors' House - Mellors/Desmond - Fights and trouble and were and vamp... think that covers it.
[Cross posted to blood_quarter and v_bq_Mellors.]
Des straighten his position, elongating his spine to push out the various kinks. Being undead didn't necissarily mean that the body wouldn't protest being bent over planting for hours on end. Honestly, Desmond was starting to get worried. Oliver had not been home for several nights... not since he ran off to tend to an injured vamp... not since Des had a vision of Jude, covered in blood. There were many reasons why Desmond was worried.
He stank, there was no two ways about it, Oliver needed to get home and to change. Moving through the forest at a fast pace, he could still hear the rustling of animals, and as he drew closer to home, Desmond working the garden. So as to not startle his friend, the gamekeeper called out, his voice soft, "Des... I'm home."
"Thank goodness for that then," Des was on his feet as soon as he heard the voice in the distance, headed for his friend. As he approached he was overcome by conflicting scents and Mellor's haggard appearance. "What on earth happened?"
"Long nights - longer days." Scrubbing his fingers through his lank hair and grimacing at the feel, he signed. "Fights and trouble and were and vamp... think that covers it. Aside from me needing a shower badly."
"Your Frankie?" and Jude! his nose picked up both scents and his worry escelated in proportion to his confusion.
"Yeah, same vampire he'd tangled with before - actually, same one from our first meeting." Stepping around Desmond, Oliver eyed the garden, "You've got a lot done... thanks." Turning to look at his friend, bewildered at the silence, Mellors studied the other vampire's face. "Des... what's wrong?"
Desmond blinked, trying to come into control of his conflicting emotions. "I...." he stuttered, but failed to verbalize his thoughts..
"Are you hurt?" Looking for signs of injury, Oliver stepped closer, his hand going to rest on the other vampires shoulders.
"No," Desmond shook his head quickly trying to alieviate his friend's worry. "I'm find Mel... I'm fine.... The vamp involved... is he alright?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine. Probably sore from the beating they gave each other, but he's good." Standing back, he tipped his head to the side, a shock of hair falling over his brow. "Why?"
"I could smell..." Desmond's eyes traveled up to look into Mellor's, his worry radiating out from the soft brown depths. "I know him."
"How?" His brow furrowing, Mellors looked at Desmond as if the asnwer was written on his friends face.
"He's my friend," the answer was simple ut the only one Desmond could really give.
"Like... like Frankie is my 'friend'?" /Lover, love, annoyance, companion, irritation... mate./
"No... not like that," that pulled the corners of his lips despite the tension of the situation. "He's a friend, nothing more. He'll be alright?" Des knew that Oliver's words would do littel good until he could see Jude's recovery with his own eyes.
"Yeah, like I said, he'll be sore. Lost a good amount of blood, but between his sire, his human and me, he had more than enough available." Oliver crossed his arms and rocked on his heels, "I wouldn't let him suffer you know."
His eyes widened at Oliver's statement, "I would never think that you would Oliver. Never." Des scratched at the back of his head, a movement inspired primarily by anxious energy than anything else. "Fuck Mel, you have a heart of bloody gold, always have."
"Sorry... just a bit tired from all the running around, you know?" Taking a step toward the cottage, Oliver looked at Des, "I think my nerves are still shot to be truthful. Never came so close in my life to pissing my pants as I did walking into that were-bar. I could smell them both in the alley."
"Frankie... is he ok?" his heart broke at the tone of Mellor's voice.
"He's... Frankie. Physically he'll be okay, bit battered - Jude got in some good shots." Mellors took a deep breath, images of the wile were laying still and unresisting in a bed. "Sometimes... he scares me."
"What started this? I just don't understand why..."
"I don't either. Frankie and I didn't discuss it, and I certainly wasn't about to question Jude with his sire standing there looking like an avenging angel... a dark one, but you get the idea." Oliver gave up and pulled his shirt off. "Lets go in, I really need to get out of these things."
Desmond nodded, following his friend. His mind was overwhelmed by what he had learned. Yes, his vision of a broken Jude was correct but he could not find it in him to lash out at the attacker, Mellors' pet. What could he do?
"Don't let it bother you so Des, some are just like that." Smelling his shirt, Mellors crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash bin.
He watched his friend's movements for a few moments, trying to formulate his thoughts into words. "'I just don't know if I have ever been in a situation where I have been worried for both parties in a fight like this."
"It's hard - need to remember it takes two to fight... and harder when you care about one of them." Grabbing a bottle of water from the counter, Oliver moved toward the basement door. "Hey, after I'm done showering, want head out for something to drink?"
"Yeah... on both counts brotha"
"I wonder what the were-Prince would think about me showing up a second time at that bar?" Pulling a clean set of clothing from the drawers, Oliver kicked off his shoes. "Care to give it a try?"
"You want me for company or backup?" in spite of the stress and worry of the past few evenings, Des found himself chuckling a bit. "Aye, I'll go, either way."
"Actually... I'm not sure Liam would be there.. not about to hang my backside out as a snack for one of them." Shucking his pants the boxers, Oliver sighed. "These are trash. Maybe some place quiet.. easy?"
"Wherever you need me Mel, I'll follow," Desmond laid his hand gently on his friend's weary shoulder. "Always."
"Just not in the mood for drama or fighting... you know?" Patting Desmond's hand, the gamekeeper took a long breath. Okay, shower then food, then bed."
"Do you need to feed?" Desmond's concern was evident in his voice.
"Yeah, it's been a few days - the were that owned the bar? He offered, but... didn't feel right drinking from another were when Frankie was laying ustairs hurt." Oliver shrugged as he padded naked to the bathroom.
"Do you want to hunt?" his voice calling to the retreating figure of Oliver. "If you are too weary... I can supply."
"What about you? When was the last time you fed?" Oliver was tempted to accept, but the idea of Desmond not having fed recenlty gave him pause.
"I fed just before resting last night. I wanted to be here when you got home so I put it off for as long as I could."
"You certain?"
Desmond scratched the back of his neck, wanting to offer up his friend's needs yet scared at the prospect all the same. He had not allowed another vamp to feed from him, ever. Not since his change. Mellors' was his friend, though, and Desmond would see to it that his thirst was slate.
"Don't worry... that's why I've got that bagged stuff. It'll do in a pinch." With his hand on the bathroom door, Mellors looked ovdr at Desmond, "Could you heat it a bit for me? I'll be right out."
"Yeah..." Desmond was ashamed that he backed down from his offer, that he dissappointed his friend, but went about preparing Oliver's dinner none the less.
"Thanks, I shouldn't be too long. Help yourself, we can have a toast to... whatever when you come back. That is if you've a need to."
Desmond nodded absentmindedly, his heart constricted with the remnants of his own anxiety and dissapointment with self. He needed to shake i t off, put on a good face when Mellors returned and later seek out his friend, to see for himself that Jude was safe.
The feel of water sluicing over his skin felt wonderful, the spray strong and hot. Oliver rested his head against the tiled wall, letting it pummel him for a few moments before soaping up the cloth and starting. Less than ten minutes later he exited the bathroom, a towel around hips and shoulder. "I could say I almost feel human - but..." Shrugging he sat on the bed.
Approaching Mellors, Des offered up a warm, full glass of blood. Funny, Des thought to himself, looking at the deep red liquid, if it were just a hair darker, it could look like a glass of wine. "Drink, brotha. I'll heat up some more if you require seconds. You need the strength."
Taking the glass, Oliver smiled his thanks. "This should be enough for the night - tomorrow I'll go and find a donor."
Wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder, Desmond pulled Mellor's body against his side. "He'll be alright Mel."
The blond vampire didn't even pretend to not know who Desmonds was talking about. "He's still hurt... stubborn bastard - couldn't let me stay."
"His pride wouldn't allow him to let you see him that way any longer," Desmond gave a squeeze to Mellor's shoulder and a kiss on his temple before pulling away. "He'll come around. He'll come back here to you as soon as he is able, I'd imagine."
"I didn't like leaving him - everyone seemed so concerned for Jude. But no one - no, I take that back, it seemed only the were prince and a bar owner cared for him." Oliver scrubbed across his face, his body weary.
"But you cared, and he knows that."
Placing the half empty glass on the bed side table, Mellors nodded, "I hope he does." Turning his head toward the other vampire, his green eyes shadowed, Mellors smiled thinly, "He's a handful - a take no shit handful."
"That he is brotha," Des smiled, leaning back into Oliver's shoulder. "But beneath all the brovado and fight, he's got a good heart. Now get into bed, sun will be up in an hour or so." Having Oliver back in the house had done a lot to aleviate the worry he had carried for the past few days, but the physical connection drove it home. Mel was safe, Mel was whole, and Mel was home.
Des straighten his position, elongating his spine to push out the various kinks. Being undead didn't necissarily mean that the body wouldn't protest being bent over planting for hours on end. Honestly, Desmond was starting to get worried. Oliver had not been home for several nights... not since he ran off to tend to an injured vamp... not since Des had a vision of Jude, covered in blood. There were many reasons why Desmond was worried.
He stank, there was no two ways about it, Oliver needed to get home and to change. Moving through the forest at a fast pace, he could still hear the rustling of animals, and as he drew closer to home, Desmond working the garden. So as to not startle his friend, the gamekeeper called out, his voice soft, "Des... I'm home."
"Thank goodness for that then," Des was on his feet as soon as he heard the voice in the distance, headed for his friend. As he approached he was overcome by conflicting scents and Mellor's haggard appearance. "What on earth happened?"
"Long nights - longer days." Scrubbing his fingers through his lank hair and grimacing at the feel, he signed. "Fights and trouble and were and vamp... think that covers it. Aside from me needing a shower badly."
"Your Frankie?" and Jude! his nose picked up both scents and his worry escelated in proportion to his confusion.
"Yeah, same vampire he'd tangled with before - actually, same one from our first meeting." Stepping around Desmond, Oliver eyed the garden, "You've got a lot done... thanks." Turning to look at his friend, bewildered at the silence, Mellors studied the other vampire's face. "Des... what's wrong?"
Desmond blinked, trying to come into control of his conflicting emotions. "I...." he stuttered, but failed to verbalize his thoughts..
"Are you hurt?" Looking for signs of injury, Oliver stepped closer, his hand going to rest on the other vampires shoulders.
"No," Desmond shook his head quickly trying to alieviate his friend's worry. "I'm find Mel... I'm fine.... The vamp involved... is he alright?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine. Probably sore from the beating they gave each other, but he's good." Standing back, he tipped his head to the side, a shock of hair falling over his brow. "Why?"
"I could smell..." Desmond's eyes traveled up to look into Mellor's, his worry radiating out from the soft brown depths. "I know him."
"How?" His brow furrowing, Mellors looked at Desmond as if the asnwer was written on his friends face.
"He's my friend," the answer was simple ut the only one Desmond could really give.
"Like... like Frankie is my 'friend'?" /Lover, love, annoyance, companion, irritation... mate./
"No... not like that," that pulled the corners of his lips despite the tension of the situation. "He's a friend, nothing more. He'll be alright?" Des knew that Oliver's words would do littel good until he could see Jude's recovery with his own eyes.
"Yeah, like I said, he'll be sore. Lost a good amount of blood, but between his sire, his human and me, he had more than enough available." Oliver crossed his arms and rocked on his heels, "I wouldn't let him suffer you know."
His eyes widened at Oliver's statement, "I would never think that you would Oliver. Never." Des scratched at the back of his head, a movement inspired primarily by anxious energy than anything else. "Fuck Mel, you have a heart of bloody gold, always have."
"Sorry... just a bit tired from all the running around, you know?" Taking a step toward the cottage, Oliver looked at Des, "I think my nerves are still shot to be truthful. Never came so close in my life to pissing my pants as I did walking into that were-bar. I could smell them both in the alley."
"Frankie... is he ok?" his heart broke at the tone of Mellor's voice.
"He's... Frankie. Physically he'll be okay, bit battered - Jude got in some good shots." Mellors took a deep breath, images of the wile were laying still and unresisting in a bed. "Sometimes... he scares me."
"What started this? I just don't understand why..."
"I don't either. Frankie and I didn't discuss it, and I certainly wasn't about to question Jude with his sire standing there looking like an avenging angel... a dark one, but you get the idea." Oliver gave up and pulled his shirt off. "Lets go in, I really need to get out of these things."
Desmond nodded, following his friend. His mind was overwhelmed by what he had learned. Yes, his vision of a broken Jude was correct but he could not find it in him to lash out at the attacker, Mellors' pet. What could he do?
"Don't let it bother you so Des, some are just like that." Smelling his shirt, Mellors crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash bin.
He watched his friend's movements for a few moments, trying to formulate his thoughts into words. "'I just don't know if I have ever been in a situation where I have been worried for both parties in a fight like this."
"It's hard - need to remember it takes two to fight... and harder when you care about one of them." Grabbing a bottle of water from the counter, Oliver moved toward the basement door. "Hey, after I'm done showering, want head out for something to drink?"
"Yeah... on both counts brotha"
"I wonder what the were-Prince would think about me showing up a second time at that bar?" Pulling a clean set of clothing from the drawers, Oliver kicked off his shoes. "Care to give it a try?"
"You want me for company or backup?" in spite of the stress and worry of the past few evenings, Des found himself chuckling a bit. "Aye, I'll go, either way."
"Actually... I'm not sure Liam would be there.. not about to hang my backside out as a snack for one of them." Shucking his pants the boxers, Oliver sighed. "These are trash. Maybe some place quiet.. easy?"
"Wherever you need me Mel, I'll follow," Desmond laid his hand gently on his friend's weary shoulder. "Always."
"Just not in the mood for drama or fighting... you know?" Patting Desmond's hand, the gamekeeper took a long breath. Okay, shower then food, then bed."
"Do you need to feed?" Desmond's concern was evident in his voice.
"Yeah, it's been a few days - the were that owned the bar? He offered, but... didn't feel right drinking from another were when Frankie was laying ustairs hurt." Oliver shrugged as he padded naked to the bathroom.
"Do you want to hunt?" his voice calling to the retreating figure of Oliver. "If you are too weary... I can supply."
"What about you? When was the last time you fed?" Oliver was tempted to accept, but the idea of Desmond not having fed recenlty gave him pause.
"I fed just before resting last night. I wanted to be here when you got home so I put it off for as long as I could."
"You certain?"
Desmond scratched the back of his neck, wanting to offer up his friend's needs yet scared at the prospect all the same. He had not allowed another vamp to feed from him, ever. Not since his change. Mellors' was his friend, though, and Desmond would see to it that his thirst was slate.
"Don't worry... that's why I've got that bagged stuff. It'll do in a pinch." With his hand on the bathroom door, Mellors looked ovdr at Desmond, "Could you heat it a bit for me? I'll be right out."
"Yeah..." Desmond was ashamed that he backed down from his offer, that he dissappointed his friend, but went about preparing Oliver's dinner none the less.
"Thanks, I shouldn't be too long. Help yourself, we can have a toast to... whatever when you come back. That is if you've a need to."
Desmond nodded absentmindedly, his heart constricted with the remnants of his own anxiety and dissapointment with self. He needed to shake i t off, put on a good face when Mellors returned and later seek out his friend, to see for himself that Jude was safe.
The feel of water sluicing over his skin felt wonderful, the spray strong and hot. Oliver rested his head against the tiled wall, letting it pummel him for a few moments before soaping up the cloth and starting. Less than ten minutes later he exited the bathroom, a towel around hips and shoulder. "I could say I almost feel human - but..." Shrugging he sat on the bed.
Approaching Mellors, Des offered up a warm, full glass of blood. Funny, Des thought to himself, looking at the deep red liquid, if it were just a hair darker, it could look like a glass of wine. "Drink, brotha. I'll heat up some more if you require seconds. You need the strength."
Taking the glass, Oliver smiled his thanks. "This should be enough for the night - tomorrow I'll go and find a donor."
Wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder, Desmond pulled Mellor's body against his side. "He'll be alright Mel."
The blond vampire didn't even pretend to not know who Desmonds was talking about. "He's still hurt... stubborn bastard - couldn't let me stay."
"His pride wouldn't allow him to let you see him that way any longer," Desmond gave a squeeze to Mellor's shoulder and a kiss on his temple before pulling away. "He'll come around. He'll come back here to you as soon as he is able, I'd imagine."
"I didn't like leaving him - everyone seemed so concerned for Jude. But no one - no, I take that back, it seemed only the were prince and a bar owner cared for him." Oliver scrubbed across his face, his body weary.
"But you cared, and he knows that."
Placing the half empty glass on the bed side table, Mellors nodded, "I hope he does." Turning his head toward the other vampire, his green eyes shadowed, Mellors smiled thinly, "He's a handful - a take no shit handful."
"That he is brotha," Des smiled, leaning back into Oliver's shoulder. "But beneath all the brovado and fight, he's got a good heart. Now get into bed, sun will be up in an hour or so." Having Oliver back in the house had done a lot to aleviate the worry he had carried for the past few days, but the physical connection drove it home. Mel was safe, Mel was whole, and Mel was home.