Are you, like, Twilght or something?

[kurecchi]

Fandom: The Almighty Jonhsons/Being Human (UK)
Personaggi: Anders Jonhsons, John Mitchell
Parole: 2595
Rating: SAFE
Prompt: Mitologia Norrena
Note:
- Ogni tanto sento il bisogno di scrivere in inglese... fallendo miseramente XD sorry guys!
- Al prompt "Mitologia Norrena" mi sono tornati in mente i fratelli Johnsons. Inutile dire che li amo XD e insieme a loro anche l'otp tra questi due in crossover LOL
- Punto di vista di Anders di quanto è accaduto in una mia fic del 2013 circa XD solo che mentre scrivevo è lievitata un po' ed ho aggiunto coseXD quindi è per metà un punto di vista e per metà un capitolo LOL

Anders knew then he had a mission - a quest - waiting for him in Norway.

He knew this very well, and of course Mike hadn’t failed to remind him of this when he had called home to tell them that, well... he wasn’t in Norway, but in Bristol in England.

It was a last-minute madness that would serve to break the boredom and maybe pick up some nice english girl. His brother wasn’t happy to hear that news, but Anders had already taken a room in a hotel and Mike was too far away to actually do anything to him.

So Anders had walked through the streets not far from his hotel, looking for a pub - not those frequented by drunks and old men, he wanted one full of flirtatious girls, ready to spread their legs for him. And he was in the midst of his 'noble quest' - better than the one that awaited him in Norway - when he was pulled from his thoughts... literally.

A cold but firmly hand closed over his mouth and another on his arm.

Obviously he tried to resist, but the hands were too strong, and Anders couldn’t do anything to rebel and found himself slammed against the wall in a deserted alley.

Only at that moment was he able to see the face of his captor. He was wearing the classic uniform of the hospital cleaner - scrubs, or whatever they were called - and he was taller than him by at least ten inches - but that was nothing new - and Anders would have also lost in other such accurate descriptions if he hadn't been kidnapped by... an admittedly handsome looking captor and slammed against the brick side of the building.

«What the fuck are you doing?», he exclaimed as the guy pulled his hand from his mouth.

Obviously he knew that attacking the guy in that way wouldn’t get him out of trouble, so Anders decided to try to remove him with methods that best suited his person. A few nice words, a languid look and maybe even a caress on the arm, and it would all be over.

«Look... you're a nice looking guy…», he began, the corners of his lips curving upwards slightly to form a small smile, «but I don’t fuck with those who have a cock between his legs», he concluded.

It was partly a lie, since he had repeatedly amused himself with particularly charming boys - and that young man was really fascinating with his mysterious look, his eyes and the dark hairs - but it was a matter of principle: that surprise attack had annoyed him.

But on the other hand, he told himself, he could also ignore that fact. Anders couldn’t deny the boy's pleasant appearance, because he loved beautiful things and, in spite of himself, he liked them beyond the genders.

He smiled again, expecting to see the boy go away embarrassed because of his power, but it didn't happen. Hi received in reply only a confused look that seemed to hold an animalistic want.

Maybe he was hard on the ears, he said to himself, and stubbornly tried to subjugate again the man with  his power... encountering yet another failure.

This wasn’t making any sense! Everyone always fell victim to his power! Who was that man? Or was it his powers that had no effect? Was he losing them?

Either way, it frightened him, knowing he was defenceless. For a moment Anders regretted not taking the direct flight to Norway... the boring, but definitely safer, Norway.

If his world wasn’t shaken enough, suddenly, his kidnapper’s eyes became dark. Not dark as ‘haunted’ or ‘angry’, but... dark. Like, pitch black. Two deep and frightening dark globes that stared at him hungry.

«What the fuck-», Anders gasped, sheer panic beginning to bubble up in his mind, wiping all the words he was so well known for from his thoughts.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Wait... did he just lick his lips?

Suddenly the man pressed him against the wall, his face against his neck. Anders could feel the breath against his skin, heard him almost groan in pleasure, as if he smelt something divine beneath his flesh. It made him shiver, but Anders didn’t know whether it was with fear or pleasure.

He tried to escape but he was too strong... and then he felt it. At first, it was the familiar sensation of lips and saliva, which was more than welcome, but then the seering pain of his flesh being torn by the man’s sharp teeth.

He wanted to shout out, to call for help, but then the strangest thing happened. A clear and warm pleasure poured over his body, sneaking into every crack and crevice of his body.

He reacted to that solicitation. His arms, at first abandoned loosely at his sides, lifted up to grab the guy by the shoulders. He wanted this guy like he had never wanted anyone before: it was a familiar desire but, at the same time, new.

It was... a unique feeling. Indescribable. And he wanted - no - needed more.

Anders felt like he was on the edge of the orgasm - the most pleasant and short part of having sex... that didn’t seem to want to end. He groaned again, thoughts of escaping to safety no longer even feasible to his addled thoughts - he was clearly more concerned with the erection that was growing between his legs - and let that 'vampire' do to him whatever he wanted.

He had never felt so physically involved with someone - Anders had sex with lots of gorgeous girls and boys, but none had made him feel fulfilled in that way, and when the guy suddenly moved, Anders felt disappointed.

«You…», the 'vampire' stared at him, eyes wide in amazement, licking obscenely his lips smeared with blood. «Who are you?»

That question irked Anders.

How dare he?

He had been the one to drag him into that alley! To bite and excite him like never before!

«What? Are you crazy mate?!», he exclaimed, bringing his hand to cover the bite, «shouldn’t you be telling me who you are? You practically kidnapped me!»

Anders was the one who would ask the questions, certainly not that guy. He looked at him with an angry frown, which all but vanished as he was confronted by a look of confusion in the man’s deep brown eyes.

Wait... weren’t they black just a second ago?

«I…»

«What are you?», he demanded, but the other merely gave him a confused look, «I mean, what kind of human can change their eyes like that in the blink of an eye? Who could bite through my neck like it was butter? Make me feel like…», he shivers, and then he pauses, «So... are you, like, Twilght or something?»

The guy looked even more confused, as though he didn’t know the worst but most famous novel - and the series of films - of the century.

«Huh?»

Anders waved a hand, gesturing.

«Twilight. You know. Vampires, glitter, making sex... screaming adolescent girls? That kind of thing».

«Glitter?». 

«Yeah, you’re right. That makes no sense. They look like fairies».

He raised a hand to his jaw, thinking. It wasn’t easy to explain to someone what was 'Twilight', but maybe it was a good thing.

«Hypothetically speaking, if you were a vampire, you wouldn’t glitter, would you?»

«Um…»

«I mean, not only is that physically impossible, it’s also... you know what, never ming! I’m getting sidetracked», Anders continued to speak, more to himself than anything else, as though it was important to find an explanation, «So... what are you?», he asked, looking at him, trying to see his face, «Have you lost your tongue?», he exclaimed noting the absence of a response from the other - with exceptions of occasional "huhs" and "ums".

«Uhm... Mitchell…», the guy said hoarsely.

«What?»

«I... I’m John Mitchell…», he repeated, presenting himself without much conviction.

«What?... Oh! Anders Johnson», Anders presented himself in turn, giving him a sly smile, «and what you did was almost better than an orgasm!»

Mitchell opened his mouth to speak, but Anders stopped him.

«Do you bite everyone you drag into dark corners, or am I just lucky?»

«W-what? Jesus no!»

Anders grinned.

«So... I’m the lucky one».

«L-lucky? Are you crazy?», exclaimed Mitchell immediately, eyes wide in amazement. «I... I w-wanted to kill you…»

Well, that's what vampires do, Anders said to himself. But he was still there, heart beating and oxygen flowing through his lungs. Sure, he had a massive pain in the neck, but he wasn’t dead.

«But you didn’t», he paused, taking a deep breath and smiled maliciously, «So... are you like Twilight?»

«I... you’re not supposed to... you should be running... this is all wrong!», Mitchell seemed to collapse, his entire weight falling onto the wall behind him before he slid to the ground, his head falling into his hands.

Anders followed his movement and he frowned.

«Hey, are you okay, Lestat?», he asked, crouching down to be at his level, though looking down on someone of his height did fulfil that little selfish part of him that always resented being so small.

Mitchell laughed a little.

«I attacked you, and you’re asking me if I’m okay... and I’m not Lestat de Lioncourt», he added.

Anders shrugs, crossing his arms to his chest with nonchalance.

«You don’t seem to be taking it so well».

He decided for the moment to ignore the nicknames like Lestat - which, surprisingly, Mitchell seemed to know. There were more important things to say.

The vampire gave him a nervous laugh.

«Well, I think this might be the first time someone’s tried to comfort a vampire for trying to kill them».

«I knew it!», Anders exclaimed, the feeling of satisfaction creeping up in his chest as his smile intensified, «I knew you were a vampire!»

«And you couldn’t have been less obvious about it!», replied Mitchell, looking at him in an almost angry way.

«But now you admitted it!», he snapped with a grin.

«Was it really that necessary?!»

«For me it is necessary. I should be your victim, right? You owe me an explanation», Anders pointed to him jokingly, which only further angered Mitchell.

«Who are you?! Who are you really?», Mitchell exclaimed after a few moments, staring into his eyes in search of an answer, «Your blood was…»

«My blood?»

«Yes, your fucking blood!», he exclaimed, his sudden outburst surprising Anders momentarily, but then the anger seemed to dissipate almost instantaneously. «It... I’ve never tasted anything... no. It wasn’t the taste…», he muttered.

«Speak English, please. What is wrong with my blood?»

Mitchell looks at him confused but amazed.

«It’s awfully good», he admitted, licking his lips unconsciously.

Anders squinted at the man before him.

«... Is that a compliment?»

The vampire looked as though he didn’t know how to answer. There was something wrong with that. Something very wrong, and it chilled him to the bone.

«Why are you different? Who... What are you? You were talking about something not working earlier. Are you some kind of.. of witch or something?», he said.

«What? That’s not very nice».

Then Mitchell continued to stare at him, waiting for a response, and Anders sighed.

«Well, I suppose, since I know what you are…», Anders took a deep breath, «I am a God, my dear Dracula».

Mitchell blinked.

«A... God?»

«Bragi, the God of Poetry, Anders pointed out, and if possible the vampire became even more pale - of course he immediately believed in his revelation, but he didn’t seem to have taken it so well.

«I drank... the blood of a God…», murmured Mitchell, his expression mirroring that of the man who caught the bullet in Russian roulette - a look that seemed hilarious to Anders.

Though the ‘god’ had not considered the existence of ‘creatures of the night’ before, it was fairly easy to accept it, considering who and what he was.

Mitchell, on the other hand, seemed to be terrified.

«I have to go», the vampire said curtly, pushing himself back onto his feet and walked away from Anders.

«Hey! Where do you think to go?», he exclaimed, trying to follow, but the other man turned back to face him, causing him to halt in his pursuits.

«Away! Away from you! I don’t want to have anything to do with... with someone like you!»

«Someone like me? Are you sure you haven’t seen Twilight? It’s like you are Edward Cullen! Are all vampires this broody?»

Anders teased - and once again, the bewildered expression of the vampire showed his complete ignorance of the character. Rolling his eyes he sighed.

«You at least owe me a drink. I mean... you did bite me», he added.

«Forget it», said Mitchell shortly, moving towards the exit of the alleyway, «And don’t try to follow me!»

«Or what?»

Mitchell let out a breath in exasperation, as though he was rolling his eyes, before glancing over his shoulder, looking at Anders with a menacing look.

As Mitchell turned away, Anders couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. This was supposed to be a blood sucking vampire! He was supposed to be trembling in fear, completely at his mercy, completely terrified of even the slightest glance sent his way. But all that look told him was ‘just don’t’. What the hell! It was the kind of look his older brother would give him when he knew he would be up to no good - he still didn’t understand how he did that...

And, of course, just as he did with his brother’s ‘warning looks’, he completely ignored it.

Anders followed him, certain that the vampire wouldn’t have killed him - he’d had his chance, but, as he’d realised before, he was still alive, and he doubted that he’d try again, especially since he was trying to get away from him.

Mitchell stopped again, turning once again to face his tail.

«Don't. Follow. Me», repeated the vampire, articulating every word, as if he were talking to a stupid child - making Anders feel more than a little annoyed. He did not like being patronised.

«I want to know where to find you», replied Anders with a shrug, «You work at a hospital I see».

«How do you...», Mitchell stared at him, amazed, but then Anders nodded his head towards the vampire’s uniform, a self satisfied smile on his lips.

The vampire looked down at his clothes, his shoulders slumping as he realised he had yet to change out of his work clothes. Something which brought a sense of joy to Anders. He must have been desperate by the time he reached him.

«Well, the drink?», insisted Anders, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his neck - he certainly couldn’t go for a walk with a blood stain on his throat. At least it was more of a scratch than anything, otherwise it would have been difficult to hide.

Mitchell frowned, concern growing in his eyes.

«I didn’t... Are you alright?»

«It’s just a scratch», Anders said, waving him off, «You still owe me that drink though».

The vampire gave him an exasperated look and shook his head.

«Fine fine!»

Grinning, Anders made his way to the vampire’s side, ignoring the grumbles that seemed to come in a continuous stream from his mouth.

 

Going to Bristol had been a brilliant idea, he had to admit it.