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[Fic] Rasher
Title: (Don't Just) Taste The Rainbow
Fandom: Rasher
Rating: PG
Notes: Heeeeeee. Excuse typos or incoherence, it's morning time and I haven't been to bed yet.
It was like when Vecchio had wanted to be a cop. Fast cars, guns, catching the bad guy day after day, that was all he’d imagined, nothing but. Once he had graduated from the Academy and landed a job at the 2-7, that was when reality had hit. In the shape of a rectangular desk, piled high with forms and reports, and a new pen placed in his hand by his new Lieutenant who was pushing him down into his new chair and opening a folder for him to stick his nose into. Vecchio had thought he’d waved goodbye to paperwork and study when he’d finished his exams.
He was a police officer now though, and all the evidence he could glean pointed towards a single painful revelation: he’d been wrong.
That first year, Vecchio found out being a cop could be boring.
Eighteen years down the line, less than a month into his new vocation, Ray discovered something extremely similar.
Being a vampire could be boring.
He rocked forward on his chair, back legs picking up, and sprawled over the desk, memories flooding back. The place was practically dead. Ray had thought becoming a vamp meant instant body clock rearrangement and though he was finding it easier to live during the night, the daytimes were still hard to let go of. Not that he saw much of them.
The first week had been hell. Ray had wished death upon himself more times in seven days than he had the entire time he’d been stuck out in the desert, blood on his hands.
Blood.
God, he was so hungry.
He missed food. He missed chewing. After his first live kill Asher had had him locked in a cell for three solid days because he’d gone crazy. He’d fallen head first into the dark, manic pits that had lurked at the edges of his mind ever since the Bookman had taken up residence. Had thrown himself in. Guilt, hunger, reality, it all got mixed up when his brain wasn’t working properly, made the kill easier to bear. Three days and nights locked up. Bed and food - Ray was surprised how quickly food automatically meant blood to him now - both probably perks he shouldn’t have received.
Asher had come to check on him. Ray had confessed he was worried his jaw was going to get fat now he wasn’t going to be chewing so much. Asher had left right after, ordered another two days, and Ray had decided the only solution was to talk more to keep everything moving. The walls had heard a lot of stuff no-one else ever had.
Ray was just learning the balance between people food and the red stuff. Learning the balance between a lotta stuff actually. Pressing his cheek to the table, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the bag of Skittles, and brought them into his line of vision, squeezing the bag with one hand until it popped, candy flying in all different directions. Quick reflexes meant he caught every single one.
They were so bright, so round, so… Ray closed his eyes and covered his ears. The smell was almost overwhelming.
With a sudden rush of enthusiasm, he tucked his chair in and sat up, collecting all the Skittles in a pile. Reds and purples and yellow. Citrus wafted up his nose and he wrinkled it. He set them out in his usual formation, a giant V, for Vecchio. Raymond Vecchio. That done to his satisfaction, he watched for a long moment before he moved them one by one into an A. For Asher. The letter got smaller and smaller the more he removed, head got lower and lower until it was flat to the table again. He was always, always so disappointed when he could barely feel the coolness of the glass. The anticipation never left though, fuelled by the memory of what it felt like, sharp and refreshing, the need to feel it again.
Tiny A. Tiny C. Tiny T. He counted the candies to make sure there were the same amount in each letter, lips parted in his concentration. Each ‘s’ had to face the same way, look good, well put together, not a thing out of place. Like Asher, like ACT. Appearances were everything.
His middle finger curled, thumb caught his nail and his gaze levelled on his creation. Top of the T. He thought his ears hurt from the noise of nothing. He wasn’t sure what picked him up first, smell or sound, but when he flicked the red Skittle hard down the length of the table it was in the direction of Asher.
Without lifting his head, he sent another red one flying.
“I miss my eyes.”
“You still have a pair.” Asher had that rough lilt in his voice, every word an unasked question: why am I up?
“My eyes were my thing, man.” Flick, flick, flick. The last one Ray aimed high; heard Asher move out of the way, the clatter on the floor. He lifted his head once the Skittles had been purged of red ones, scooped them back into the bag and shook. “I got you something.” He shook it again in Asher’s direction, near leer on his face as he smiled.
To his surprise, Asher took it and the smile grew until the point of a fang sliced along his bottom lip and he slapped a hand over his mouth to hide it. “Can I blow you yet?” he asked, voice muffled by hand and sucking.
God, he was so hungry.
“Once we can hold a four minute conversation without you doing that,” Asher perched on the edge of the desk and popped a Skittle into his mouth, “I’ll start to think about it.”
Four minutes, Ray could do that. He dropped his hand, tongue glued to the wound. “Hey, so I’m feeling pretty hot,” he told Asher with a hint of triumph.
“No, you’re not.”
Ray couldn’t help but think he’d preferred Asher’s voice when he’d been human.
“I really think I am,” he continued hopefully, slipping his jacket off his shoulders. “Feel my,” he took Asher’s free hand, “feel my forehead.” Touch was meant to be amplified, all the senses, but all Ray felt was skin. Nothing to say if it was his own or not.
It was Asher’s. He held the backs of his fingers to Ray’s temple instead, but Ray had a hard time spotting affection any more. It had been easier as a human. When he wasn't being killed or eaten, it had all been positive in its own way. Now all the scales had changed and Ray was still left wondering what a touch like that meant. If anything.
“I know I’m not hot like before but that’s, I mean, there’s heat, right. That’s, maybe I’m not so…”
“Cold-blooded.” Asher took his hand away, managed to make the statement sound like he was offering an optional sentence-end to Ray and coming to an irrefutable conclusion at the same time. He ate another Skittle.
Ray put his jacket back on.
He took extra effort to smooth down his lapels, to suck air into his lungs and sigh. “Are you up for good now?”
Asher brushed a hand over his thigh disinterestedly, candy between thumb and forefinger. “Probably.”
Could Ray’s hesitation have been heard it would have burst both their eardrums. He stood up. “Can I uh…?” He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t really want to…”
“Yeah.”
Ray’s voice was soft. “Okay.” He backed away, the way Asher had arrived. “If you come back, wake me,” he turned around before swivelling back on a foot, the leer not entirely back on his face but there nonetheless, “and I’ll--”
“No, you won’t.”
Ray let out a breathy laugh, glad for the sound of it. “Okay, okay, four minutes.”
He grumbled the rest of his way into black silk sheets, swore to himself he could feel the warmth Asher had left behind. Maybe he could. “…thinks I can’t do four minutes. I can do four minutes.”
He was asleep in three.
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Listen to your thoughts, Asher, Ray wants his day!! Or week! Like I said up there, Ray's not picky. Even though he so is.
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HE'S SCARED. With his luck he'll DIE three days into it XD
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Ray wouldn't allow it if it was within his control! Though three days would be really...no! Ray'd prefer alive and far away than three days and then dead :( At least there aren't many ways to die in a bedroom, hehe :D
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remember that meme, where one of the outcomes way death by sex?! there ARE ways to die in a bedroom! but you now have only yourself to blame, and Ray can expect his Asher in the post within 3 to 5 business days :X
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