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candied-peach · 4 years

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ao3: “still standing” rating: T warnings: supernatural au, blood, food, cheating implication (but no actual cheating), remus typical stuff, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, dukeceit genre: angst with a happy ending description: Sometimes the best present is each other. And perhaps a Milkbone? (written for @timelesstragedy as part of sanders sides secret santa 2019 ♡) (beta’ed by the amazing TheLittleTrashCat)

It's getting late, Dee frets, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and wandering down the sidewalk, eyes scanning the busy shops for any sign of his boyfriend. Snowflakes lazily spiral down from a slate grey sky, nestling in the soft wool of his yellow hat, knitted by his friend, Patton. It's a little clumsy, but Dee treasures it.

He also treasures the lack of sun right about now. The stories are, in the whole, wrong (he has no issue with garlic, for instance, and the profusion of selfies on his phone shoot down the pernicious idea that he can't see his own reflection), but the sun certainly doesn't do him any favors. He doesn't burst into flames or anything as dramatic as that, but it does weaken him. And a lack of energy does not bode well when it comes to dealing with his boyfriend.

Speaking of Remus, Christmas is fast approaching and Dee still has no idea what to get him. Nothing that springs to mind feels worthy of the greatest gift to ever stumble into Dee's life. He knows that a lot of people are put off by Remus. They find him abrasive, crude, and obnoxious. Gross, even, by his sense of humor and lack of personal boundaries. But Dee knows he's trying, he really is, and what's wrong with a little exuberance and curiosity? No one else in his life has ever dragged him out of bed at three in the morning to go pelt stray students with open packets of barbecue sauce (they almost got caught by campus police and Dee nearly forgot in his panic to run like a normal human would, not putting on a preternatural burst of speed).

His tongue absently swipes across one of his fangs (dismissed as an unusually sharp canine tooth) as he finally catches a glimpse of Remus, talking animatedly to a mall Santa who looks like he's just clocked out for the day. The mall Santa has a dazed look on his face under the fake white beard. A common occurrence for strangers meeting Remus for the first time, Dee thinks in amusement as he sidles their way.

"-and personally, I think frog spawn makes a great gift," Dee hears as he picks his way across a thin scrim of ice. Remus turns his head, catching sight of Dee, and his whole face lights up.

"Dee Dee!" He exclaims, abandoning the mall Santa without a second thought. "There you are!" As if he's not the one who ran off in the first place.

"Here I am," Dee agrees. The wind is cold suddenly, biting into his exposed skin and making the birthmark that covers one half of his face ache. He still doesn't know why it does that. Perhaps it is a side effect of his vampiric status? It certainly never did it before, or perhaps he never paid enough attention. "Are you ready to go?"

"For now," Remus says. "What next?"

"We're meeting up with Virgil, aren't we?" Dee asks, surprised by the cloud that sweeps briefly over Remus's face. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Remus denies. It's a lie, but Dee doesn't want to push it. Remus will tell him when he wants to tell him and until then, he'll clam up, stubborn as any old hard-headed mule.

Virgil waits for them at the smoothie shop- surprisingly still busy, despite the icy weather. He stands out amongst the festive shoppers, clad in purple and black like a gloomy storm cloud. Purple-dyed hair falls over one eye and black eyeshadow swoops beneath both eyes. He smiles when he sees Dee and Remus, standing up from the tiny table he'd ensconced himself.

"Hey," Virgil greets. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

"Not quite," Dee admits, rueful. "It's so hard to buy for this one." He nudges Remus playfully. "I want to buy him the moon and stars, but sadly, they aren't for sale."

"Ask Logan," Virgil jokes. Logan is the neighborhood librarian, and he is more obsessed with astronomy than any person Dee has ever met.

"Buy me a human skull," Remus suggests, his eyes glittering with suppressed laughter. "Ooh, better yet, Dee Dee, just get me a human skull! A fresh one!"

"I'd rather not end up in prison," Dee says, laughing. "But there's a macabre idea. I like it."

"Want a smoothie?" Virgil asks. Dee nods.

"Nah," Remus says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His shopping bags dangle from his elbows. Virgil wanders up to the counter and Dee takes a seat, sighing as the weight is lifted from his feet.

"Are you still going out with Virgil later?" Remus asks abruptly. Dee nods.

"Present shopping," he lies. In reality, he and Virgil are fang buddies (although he's told Virge more than once never to utter that phrase again), and they need to go and feed.

"Oh," Remus says, his face clearing a little. "Okay."

"Here you go," Virgil says, arriving breathless, his cheeks flushed. He presses a berry smoothie into Dee's hands, sipping on his own mango one. Dee takes a happy sip, offering the straw to his boyfriend. Remus regards it for a moment, then takes a noisy slurp, his cheeks hollowing out.

"Leave some for me," Dee jokes. Remus's eyes sparkle as he swallows his mouthful of ice cold smoothie, before pain creases his forehead.

"Smoothie headache," he says, his voice creaky.

"Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth," Virgil advises. "I think it's supposed to help." Remus looks dubious, but does it anyway. Moments later, relief floods his face. Dee brushes a few strands of his unruly hair out of his face, fingers sliding through the grey streak in front. Remus won't admit if he's dyed it or if it's a stroke of luck that it's all centered in one or two locks of hair (although Dee's money is on Remus dyeing it).

They start the long trek home not long after, Virgil trailing after them. Dee is acutely aware of the other vampire's presence, even as he makes small talk with his boyfriend. He reaches over and snags some of the bags Remus is juggling, purely to grasp the chance to hold Remus's hand. Remus's slow growing smile is a reward in and of itself, and it makes precious warmth bloom in his chest.

"Love you," Dee murmurs, just loud enough for Remus to hear. Red stains Remus's cheeks, climbing up his neck, and Dee smiles in satisfaction.

"You little-" Remus cuts himself off abruptly.

Virgil's phone rings behind them, disturbing the moment.

"Sorry to interfere in your homosexual love affair, guys," Virgil says dryly. "But I gotta take this. It's Patton." He slows further, mumbling into the phone until Dee can't hear him very well.

Patton is a mutual friend who just so happens to be a werewolf. You would never know it, though, looking at his sunny exterior, Dee muses. Slightly chubby, spattered with freckles, and always smiling, he doesn't exactly fit the 'look.' Then again, Dee doesn't really look like a vampire, does he?

Now Virgil, he really looks the part, a brooding emo with purple-dyed hair and a perpetually black wardrobe. People used to jokingly call him a vampire in high school. They never knew how much it hurt him. Maybe it shouldn't have, Virgil told him one night, as they sat on the roof of the school and watched the moon come up. But it did, anyway.

I could hurt them, he remembers Virgil saying, sprawled out over the roof. I could really, really hurt them. Bet they wouldn't make fun of me then.

But you won't, Dee had said, with utter certainty.

No, Virgil had admitted. I won't.

Remus slides an arm around Dee's waist, pulling him free of his reverie.

"Do you have to go so soon?" He whines, licking Dee's ear. Dee scrunches his face.

"Don't do that," he says, laughing. "And I don't have to leave quite yet."

"Good," Remus says smugly, just as Virgil catches back up, stuffing his phone in his pocket.

"Patton wants to join our quest," Virgil says. "If that's okay with you, Dee." What looks like relief passes over Remus's face as Dee nods and he wonders why.

"Fine by me," he says. He knows what Virgil really means. Patton has found a willing blood donor this time.

"Here we are," Dee says, stopping by the walk up to their apartment. "See you in a little while, Virge."

"See you!" He says, giving a short flap of his fingers and continuing on, shoulders hunched.

"I'm going to find you the best Christmas present in the whole world," Dee tells his boyfriend, as they start up the stairs. Remus looks wistfully at him.

"I just need you, Dee Dee," he says. "You know that, right?"

Dee doesn't know what to say to that.

-----

Remus watches his boyfriend continue up the steps, too low to even give his customary salacious wink and wiggle. It's a sign of how preoccupied Dee must be that he doesn't notice. He hopes that it's purely because of what Dee said, he's trying to come up with the perfect Christmas present (Remus himself has long since given up on the idea of perfection). But he can't help but fret there's a more sinister undertone, one that he desperately doesn't want to think about.

It's just your intrusive thoughts, he tries to convince himself, as Dee unlocks their front door and ushers him inside, shopping bags banging against his side. It must be just his intrusive thoughts. Dee wouldn't do something like that, would he? Not with their friend, Virgil.

But he's been friends with Virgil a lot longer than he's been boyfriends with Remus. And they're always hanging out. Dee never outright excludes him, but after a long life in his brother Roman's shadow, Remus knows when he's not wanted.

But Patton will be there, he argues with himself, taking his shopping to put up in the back of the closet, where Dee can't reach without a step stool. He's always been a little persnickety about his short stature, but Remus has to admit it has its uses right about now.

Unless Patton is in on it-

But no. Not even his intrusive thoughts can believe that. The same goes for Logan, the librarian who's so much fun to tease when he gets all prickly. He knows all the cool books about cephalopods, though, so Remus doesn't tease him too much. Besides, if he does, Roman will find out and he's taken great pains to distance himself from his brother.

It's not that he doesn't like Roman. He does. They're twins, after all. But Roman is-

Well, it feels like Roman is everything that Remus is not. Roman is good. Valiant. A prince. Human.

Remus winces as his own thoughts remind him of the monster he transforms into, every full moon. He keeps his human mind when he transforms, but somehow, that's almost worse.

Sometimes he wishes his brother shared it. Other times, he's relieved that Roman, at least, gets to be normal. He knows, of course. It would have been pretty hard growing up otherwise. But it's always been impressed into both twins that it's a family secret. Not even Dee knows, and Remus kind of hates himself for it. Dee isn't hiding some earth-shattering secret like being a werewolf-

No, instead you're just freaking out that he's cheating on you and you don't even have the balls to ask him straight up what's going on. He winces, returning to the living room, where Dee has sprawled out on the sofa, winter coat folded over the arm.

"You all right?" Dee asks, his brows crinkling in concern.

"Never better, Sir Hiss a Lot!" Remus chirps, lying through his teeth. "Just a little tired, that's all." He flops dramatically next to Dee on the couch, hand splayed over his eyes.

"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well," Dee says, deadpan. "Are you going to take a nap then? When I leave?"

"Yeah, probably," Remus says, letting his arm flop to one side. He turns his face aside, avoiding the truth.

He intends on napping. That much is true. But he also knows that curiosity is burning like a trash fire, deep in his belly, and he can't guarantee that he won't try his hand at a bit of espionage. He used to follow his brother around all the time when they were kids, and Roman never suspected a thing.

"Okay," Dee says, cuddling into his side and basking in his warmth. He feels cold and Remus yanks him closer, wrapping a warm arm around his boyfriend and breathing in the soft scent of Dee's shampoo.

There's nothing going on. He's sure of it, he thinks, relief sagging his shoulders. There is no way that Dee can cuddle him so lovingly and have something going on the side. He knows his boyfriend.

But he thinks maybe he'll follow Dee, anyway. Just for the practice.

-----

"Sleep well, my little cephalopod," Dee murmurs, kissing Remus's forehead. His boyfriend whines, clutching at him, and for a moment, he's tempted to text Virgil and tell him that he can't come after all.

But no, it's been too long since he last fed, and it's hard enough to line up willing donors as it is. He feels like an ass when their only option is a blood bank (as funny as it is to think of a vampire stabbing their teeth into a bag of blood like a Capri Sun), but he refuses to feed from someone who's not willing.

Virgil's waiting outside, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Remus is gonna take a nap," Dee greets him. "Do you think maybe I should tell him on Christmas?"

"If you want to," Virgil says, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I don't think that he'd freak out."

"I don't think so, either," Dee says. He bites his lower lip in thought. "I just- What if he doesn't believe me? What if he does and wants to break up with me?"

"What if you're borrowing trouble when there is none?" Virgil counters. Dee laughs shakily.

"All right, good point," he acknowledges. "So, where's Patton and this mystery donor, anyway?"

"The library," Virgil says. "Patton reserved a conference room."

"Only Pat," Dee murmurs, with a laugh. "Afterwards, I still need to buy Remus a Christmas present." He sighs. "I hope Logan and Pat have some ideas, because I am clueless."

"Have you asked his brother?" Virgil asks. Dee looks at him in surprise.

"You know, I still haven't managed to meet him?" Dee says. "Remus always has an excuse."

"I've only met him a couple times when he's hung out with Pat," Virgil says. "But I think he and Remus don't get along very well."

"I wonder why," Dee muses.

"He and Remus are complete opposites," Virgil says. "I prefer Remus, to be honest." A fond smile touches Dee's lips.

"So do I," he says, a dreamy look entering heterochromatic eyes. Virgil snorts, elbowing him.

"Of course you do," he says.

"Dee! Virge!" Patton's exuberant voice spills out of the library doors before the rest of him. He beams at the two of them, hands clasped in front of him. He reminds Dee of a Christmas postcard, dressed in a pastel blue sweater, his familiar cat hoodie tied loosely over his shoulders. It has always amused Dee that a werewolf would be so enamoured with cats (although Patton's deathly allergic and Dee's had to tug him away more than once).

"Back here," Patton says, leading them into the warm confines of the library. Logan nods to them from the reference desk, adjusting his glasses as he bends over his computer. The library is closing soon, but that's all right. Logan and Patton have arranged everything. It's easier for them to do it. Virgil gets so anxious about the thought of arranging his own blood donor that he would rather die of thirst, and Dee's too self-conscious about his birthmark. He still does, of course, but he has to admit that it's easier when Patton volunteers. He likes to arrange for a special tray of Patton's favorite cookies to be sent over afterwards. Patton loves his cookies, especially chocolate chip ones.

"Are they here, Patton?" An unfamiliar voice asks from the dimness of the conference room.

"Yep!" Patton answers cheerily. It's easier when it's dark, Dee thinks as he sidles past the pun-loving werewolf. At least for the initial bite. He doesn't mind seeing afterward, but looking into someone's eyes right before you sink your fangs into them is a little, well-

Uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Don't take too much," Virgil cautions, but Dee already knows the generally unspoken rules. Their new blood donor sits at one of the tables, and Dee can barely see the pale expanse of his neck, bared to him.

"Er, maybe your arm would be better?" Dee suggests, hesitant. "Just so, you know, you don't have two holes in your neck..."

"Oh!" He sounds startled, but soon enough, a wrist is thrust in front of Dee's mouth. "That makes much more sense. I just assumed-"

"A lot of people do," Dee says, trying to hide his amusement. "This will only take a moment."

He sinks his fangs into the delicate skin of the stranger's wrist, just beginning to feed, when suddenly the overhead light flares on, and he looks into the shocked eyes of someone who could only be Remus's twin.

"Remus, I told you, they're busy in the-" He hears Logan's voice stutter to a stop as Dee jerks back from who could only be Roman, eyes wide.

"When I followed you, I thought I had to worry about Virgil, not my own brother," Remus says. He sounds utterly heartbroken, and Dee feels his heart crack that much more, hearing the utter desolation in Remus's voice.

"Remus, it isn't what you think," Virgil tries, but Dee could have told him it's the exact wrong thing to say.

"Really?" Remus snaps. Now he sounds very brittle. "My own boyfriend won't even face me. He's too busy facing my stupid twin." Dee's not facing him because he's too afraid blood is smeared all over his mouth, but how can he say that? As if his boyfriend will believe that he's a vampire now.

"That's what I thought," Remus says heavily. Dee stands there, listening to the plod of his boyfriend's boots, leaving the conference room, and his heart shatters.

"This has gone on long enough," Logan says after several long, tense moments. Dee's eyes burn with the force of his suppressed tears. "Dee, he deserves to know the truth."

"My brother's boyfriend is a vampire," Roman says, staring in wonder at the puncture marks on his wrist. "That's a new one."

"I'm sorry," Dee whispers. It's all his throat will let past.

"No need," Roman says. "Hey-" He thrusts his other wrist at Virgil. "You were gonna feed, too, weren't you?" Virgil jumps, his eyes darting around the room.

"Maybe later," he says. "I uh- this should probably get resolved."

"Agreed," Logan says crisply. "There is no reason to hide the truth of your vampire status from him any longer, Dee."

"But what if he-" Dee starts.

"I think he'll accept it," Roman promises. "I can't say why, but trust me. He will."

Dee heaves a ragged sigh.

"I hope you're right," he says.

-----

A brisk knock on the door interrupts Remus's crying jag. He looks up from the pint of Ben & Jerry's he's dived into, eyes red rimmed and nose running.

"I'm not in the mood to hear it!" He yells at the door. "Why don't you go back to my brother?" Of all the scenes he thought he would walk into at the library, seeing Dee bent so lovingly over his own twin never even came close to the realm of possibility. It still hurts, burning deep inside like a tablespoon of sea salt packed into an open wound.

"Your brother is with us," Logan calls back, his voice measured. "Dee has the key, Remus. We are coming in, whether you like it or not."

"Fine," Remus growls, dropping the spoon into his ice cream and stalking over to the door, jerking it open. Sure enough, everyone is crowded in the hallway. Dee's eyes look just as swollen as his own must be, and Remus feels a vicious splinter of satisfaction at the sight.

"Please let us in," Patton requests, twisting the knotted together sleeves of his cat hoodie. Remus steps back, watching them shuffle past him. Dee won't even meet his eyes.

"What do you want?" He asks sharply.

"You misinterpreted what happened at the library," Logan says.

"I'm not cheating on you," Dee whispers. "I wouldn't- I couldn't, Remus, it would physically destroy me, I love you so much-"

"Then explain your little lovey dovey scene with my brother," Remus hisses. Dee winces.

"It's complicated," he mumbles. "I, um-"

"This will take forever," Logan says, with an exasperated huff of breath. "Dee's a vampire, Remus. So is Virgil. Roman was going to be their blood donor."

"And I'm a werewolf!" Patton pipes up, an uncertain smile spreading across his face.

"What?" Remus asks blankly.

"I'm a vampire," Dee says, glaring at Logan. "Logan's not wrong. Virgil and me- we are best friends, but a lot of the time, when we don't invite you, it's because we need blood, and I, um... I didn't know how you'd react."

"You thought I wouldn't accept you?" Remus asks. Hesitant, Dee shrugs.

"I don't know?" He says. "And that's- well, that's part of the problem, I didn't think you'd take it bad or want to break up or think I was crazy, but I didn't know-"

"Bluebirds on bagels, this is too funny," Remus says, leaning against the wall and wheezing a little. "Roman, you didn't tell them?"

"It's your secret, bro," Roman says. Dee looks at him in confusion.

"It's been a big family secret," Remus says. "And I've been so afraid to tell you, but I'm a werewolf."

"Like me!" Patton squeals, and suddenly, Remus has an armful of Patton, squeezing him round the middle.

"Like you," Remus agrees. He looks up, serious. "I'm sorry, Dee. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that. It wasn't fair- to anyone."

"I should have told you sooner," Dee says, his gaze downcast. "I'm sorry." Remus crosses the room, tugging Dee to him.

"I love you," Remus says, kissing Dee's temples. "So much."

"And I you," Dee murmurs. Remus barely registers the others filing out, shutting the door with a quiet click.

"I guess I'll have to find you a real Christmas present tomorrow," Dee mumbles, as Remus leads him to the sofa, curling up on it and pulling him to Remus's side.

"I told you," Remus says, peering into Dee's mismatched eyes. "The only Christmas present I need is you."

tag list: @k9cat @i-wanna-be-m-e @paravigilant-virgil @croftersgamer @airiervessel @bexxbeauty @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @yalltookmyurlideas @matthindavick @killjoy-3000

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rebeccasbraviary · 4 years

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Loud voices and quiet hearts

The food is good tonight. Fish and salad and new potatoes, a serving of green beans even though some of them are a curious pale yellow which admittedly bothers me somewhat. I sit with my friends after a long day (small children settling into a new environment with new people who aren't their parents, staff navigating the stresses of the day in different ways, the contrast of the cold mountain air outside and the too-warm inside of the hotel). They chat and laugh and I join in where I can, but I am finding it difficult to be in the middle of what probably looks like, from the outside, a normal, relatively calm, everyday staff dinner situation. The background noise from serving spoons hitting ceramic dishes, coffee machines spitting out hot water in dramatic, exasperated sighs, voices of every cadence all tumbling together like water in a rapid rushing towards the falls. I'm used to trying to tune this noise out, which is why I don't always hear you when you speak to me. It's why I retreat inside my head and listen to the music there, or chill out in that secret head-space that's all forests and mountaintops and quiet.

Tonight, it's harder to tune it out. The day has been so overstimulating that I don't have the capacity or energy left to drown anything out. My body is on high alert, and if I wasn't working this evening too, I wouldn't have stayed for dinner. I'm eating as fast and politely as possible so I can escape to the office for 10 minutes of comparative silence (and artificial light, but beggars cannot be choosers) before lots of my friends do the same thing. I'm lost in this thought process when somebody jokingly sneaks up behind me, grabs my shoulders and roars at me very close to my ears. I'm startled and so I scream, not purposefully, but the unasked-for sudden touch and even more noise in my ears feels physically painful to my nervous system. My heart is hammering something stupid and it takes me a while to calm down, whilst others are loudly shushing me because this is a public place, there are guests around, implying you don't want to give off the wrong impression.

At this point I'm done, because how I'm supposed to explain to a room full of neurotypicals that I wasn't being abrasive on purpose, that I was just overstimulated, is something I haven't yet mastered and quite frankly have little interest in doing. I finish my dinner and go up to the office to literally curl up in a corner until the start of my next shift (thankfully a quiet one, that only requires me to effectively babysit a corridor of sleeping children). After a few minutes my friends start trickling in, a presence I am thankful for in terms of comfort but I put my earphones in regardless because I can't take any more noise that isn't from a source I've chosen.

This is just one experience of many, and it's unlikely to mean anything to those who aren't highly sensitive, or who don't sometimes have difficulty processing sensory information. I don't expect other people to understand, because it is hard when you don't have that basis of personal experience to help you relate. But I do hope, perhaps selfishly, for people to try and understand that if you've very suddenly made me jump, it might not always go well and might actually look like I'm throwing a tantrum.

I don't mean that I can't enjoy pranks, I don't mean that you can't suddenly rugby tackle me to the ground with the kind of hug I sometimes need when I’ve missed you greatly, or I'm stressed and sensory energy hurdles through my veins as if it's a race. Sometimes those things are hilarious and result in my laughter probably causing even the least sensitive of us some discomfort. Sometimes I can take it, depending on how sensitive I am that day and how much stimulation I've already had. Other times however, like tonight, I absolutely can't take it and the whole (seemingly small) experience has left me feeling sorry that my audible discomfort gave the impression that I was unaware of my professional status, representing a company I deeply respect, hugely enjoy working for, and care about so much that I willingly navigate the many different forms of shift I work here, and the constantly changing nature of the job and all it encompasses.

I suppose the point of sharing this is not to make you feel like you have to tiptoe around me, but just to alert you to the fact that I am a little different (not a new statement I’m sure!) and I’m okay with that. I’m happy to accept myself as I am, in the same way I always try to accept and love others for where they're at in their lives. I think the point is just a case of awareness, as articles and blogs of this type so often are. The world is loud and there are those of us who find that very distressing on a day-to-day, hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute basis. If I, for example, show up at a party or celebration you’ve kindly invited me to, it is not because I want to be at a busy social gathering. It is because I love you very much and have decided that today I can cope with all the potential and likely attacks on my senses to celebrate you and to help give you the kind of fun and enjoyment you so deserve. If I write you notes and draw you pictures and send you things through the post and over text instead of telling you I love you, it’s because those ways of communication are much less severe on my senses than talking out loud (as much as I enjoy that, sometimes, too). There’s so much more to hypersensitivity and sensory processing than this, but it’s a start, and I’m thankful you’ve taken the time to read this if you have. Thank you for trying to understand my very differently-wired brain and for being patient as I navigate all the implications that has on my life and my surroundings.

#blog #hsp #highlysensitiveperson #highsensitivity #hypersensitivity #introvert #infj #infp

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