asher_talos | [For Stephen] Fangs make the man (Part Two)

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stephen colbert

[For Stephen] Fangs make the man (Part Two)

[Dated to July 14]

Three days and they were still there. They didn’t feel as foreign as they had when he’d first woken up with them; he’d stopped accidentally clamping down on his bottom lip and tongue, forgetting they were there. They almost felt as normal as ever; natural. Right.

Asher decided it was probably best not to think about how right, though. They were just teeth. Everything that had come with them before didn’t seem to affect him now. No allergic reaction to the sun, no superhuman senses, he’d even checked out as ‘normal’ according to the whitecoats at the clinic: normal temperature, normal pulse, all vitals were decidedly human.

Everything else was just in his head... but he was still afraid of snapping, genuinely worried that he'd cross paths with the wrong person who'd say or do something and flip some switch, setting him off. He didn't want to kill anyone, at least he didn't think he did. Maybe a maiming at the most... Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with the consequences of killing someone. There really wasn't much in the way of consequences back home.

This wasn't home, though.

He'd avoided staying in the Compound for too long for the past few days, but he'd begun to miss his bed. He might have even missed waking up with Chloe's nose in his ear, not that he'd admit it.

After showering and braving the clothing box (which seemed to have taken pity on him today), Asher made his way to the dorm room, buttoning up his shirt then sitting down heavily on his bed. Ruffling his damp hair, he flopped back on the mattress, then grabbed a pillow, placing it over his face.

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Asher stared. And then he stared some more. Then he blinked.

"Yeah, that doesn't help." At all. Maybe even a little less than that. "You suck at this," he said, though he wasn't even sure what this was, let alone what Stephen could have done to make it suck less. It was just easy to blame him.

Well, Stephen wasn't about to admit the reasons why he regretted that! It wasn't a damn truth-telling day, after all.

"I didn't know we were playing a game," he said with a touch of annoyance. "Your cheerfulness should have given it away, though, I guess."

He was about to back away again because he had some self-preservation skills, when something kinda-sorta-maybe caught his eye. "What's that?"

"It's not a fucking game," Asher snapped, glaring at him. It was probably the island's idea of fun, but it sure as shit wasn't his.

There was nothing the least bit enjoyable about being dicked around by a sad spit of land that had a worse sense of humor than King did. "What's what?"

The snapping just made the Thing that caught Stephen's eye more apparent. He edged forward, just a tiny bit.

"Your mouth..."

Asher sat a bit straighter at that, setting his jaw tightly and narrowing his eyes in warning. The ice was much thinner than usual.

"Stop staring."

Stephen blinked, put his hands up in a sort of surrender that still managed to be defensive. "Just wondering. You're acting..." Weird? "Like something happened. That's all."

He quite obviously stared at a point on the wall behind Asher.

"...I'm dealing with the aftermath of hiring a building manager," Asher said in his ever sarcastic tone. Stupid Stephen and his stupid unhelpful past which made for stupid metaphors.

Somehow, Stephen assumed Asher was not talking about, say, hiring a guy and liking him despite all reason not to and treating him like shit even while sleeping with him and actually feeling bad about it and therefore treating him like shit even more.

Just as an example.

"About your...mouth?" Stephen asked hesitantly, still not looking at Asher.

"Yea-- Would you quit it!" Being stared past was just as bad at having his mouth stared at. "If a woman told you to stop staring at her tits, is that what you resort to?" Not that Asher was a woman, and not that he'd just sprouted tits in his mouth...

Small mercies.

"Don't answer that... Do. Not."

Actually, Stephen had been told that very thing before, and it usually just made him stare more. Of course, he was typically drunk at those times, too.

"Then where should I look?!" he exclaimed, hand flailing a bit. God, Asher was so demanding. And Stephen was starting to suspect something.

Asher simply scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. For once, he knew he was being excessively difficult, but he also though he was justified in his actions, to a certain extent. Stephen hadn't done anything other than be Stephen, really, but that was enough to set him off on a good day.

The past few days had been anything but 'good'.

Stephen looked back at Asher, who was now all silent and annoying. It was going to drive him crazy until he found out what was going on.

"Come on, I'm a good listener." Total lie. "I interview people all the time!" He barely paid attention to the drivel they spewed. "Is it embarrassing?" Those were the best interviews.

He was sincere, dammit!

"I don't do embarrassing," Asher said coolly, the 'you idiot' remained silent, but was implied.

Growling quietly at the back of his throat, he was mentally beating the shit out of himself, even before he even opened his mouth again. Lip pulled back slightly over the top set of teeth, Asher slowly ran the tip of his tongue down the length of one of his canines.

"The better to bite you with, my dear," he said, rolling his eyes.

Even though Stephen had begun to suspect it, the sight took him by surprise. Eyes widened comically, he was actually a little speechless. For a moment.

"Holy shit, did you actually wish for them and it worked?" he asked, kind of amazed. If the island was granting wishes, Stephen wanted in.

He crept closer, trying not to stare fixedly, since apparently Asher was a little particular about that.

"No." Not out loud, anyway. And not for a good long while now. He hadn't even thought much about them in months, or about how bitter he'd been after meeting another vampire here who'd kept her fangs.

"Before... maybe, but not recently. Mostly for the first few months. Guess that's the prime opportunity as far as this place goes." When he started forgetting, started to come to grips with the fact that he wasn't getting them back, maybe when he was even on the verge of considering the idea that it was best that he didn't have them. It's not like he promoted world peace with them before.

The island was testing much more than just his patience, and the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it wasn't a feeling that sat particularly well with him. It didn't inspire him to behave, or to latch onto any sense of control he had stored up. If anything, it inspired defiance.

"Ah," Stephen said brilliantly. He was still walking closer. "So that's why you...disappeared?" He guessed it would be quite a change. More than it'd be for Stephen if something from his life showed up.

He wondered. About things he shouldn't ever be wondering about.

Asher nodded slowly. "Thought is was just one of those... temporary mindfucks, like the honesty or that fucking tiki idol," he said, not sitting quite as rigid as he'd been before. "Figured I could just lay low, wait for it to pass." Only it hadn't.

Fangs were a lot less like honesty and unlucky idols, and a lot more like Onyx, he thought. Something that followed him here from home, as permanent as things were capable of being, whether he liked it or not.

Weird.

"So...when did they show up?" Stephen was trying really hard to keep from peering closer, getting a better look at them. Asking to touch them or something.

He somehow thought that'd be a stupid question.

"Friday night, I guess. Since I woke up to them early Saturday morning." It was like Christmas. From hell.

"Didn't even have to go through the seventy-two hour transformation for them this time." That was a plus at least. That was definitely the worst part the first time around.

"Seventy-two hours?!" Who had that kind of time to sit around and turn into a vampire?

In his shock, Stephen didn't really notice that he closed the space between them to flop onto the bed next to Asher. He was too busy staring in horror.

"Does it always take that long?"

Asher shook his head to the negative, rubbing the back of his neck idly. "Only when you're awake for the process, it's easier for the virus to take over when the body's dead. No resistance."

Stephen stared, mouth open. This was fascinating! Kind of creepy, sure, but really really interesting. He almost wanted to interview Asher about it.

Except for how he'd probably be killed. Stephen was too pretty and famous to die.

"Wow," he finally said. "That sounds horrible." He maybe sounded the opposite of convincing with that statement.

Asher blinked. "Nowhere near as horrible as your weak attempts at sympathy, or concern or... whatever it is that you're going for," he waved a hand around vaguely. He didn't care which it was, really, because he didn't need or want either one.

"Hey, I care!" Stephen insisted. What, exactly, he cared about was anyone's guess.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Have you eaten anything since?"

"Of course you do." Actually, he'd prefer it if he didn't.

"Anything?" Asher repeated harshly, a clear warning present in the single word. "Or anyone?"

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