Work Text:
Pyro hadn’t wanted to go to the festival at all. He’s never been good in crowds, even before joining the ranks of the damned, and he’s doubly bad at being around people now. They’d been in this town for months now, after the end of Oakhurst and all that entailed, and their house was just starting to feel comfortable. He’d stopped watching quite so much for a flash of movement in the corner of an eye; was a little more sure every day that they’d gotten away, that maybe the contrition on Scott’s face when he went walking away with Shelby and Drift and Avid in tow had somehow been genuine.
They still didn’t want to leave the house, if he could help it. But Abolish had given Pyro a blank, unimpressed stare at his excuses for staying back, and the feeling of being judged as weak had lurched up and out of his mouth as agreement.
So here he was, in the middle of a throng of people beneath a dimming sky, as lanterns were lit around the square until it might as well have been day. There were just so very many people - Pyro knew he wasn’t being targeted, no one was angry at him, but the constant bump of shoulders and hands was making them more and more tense. He tried to stay focused, claws pressed against palms in their pockets (but not breaking skin, or Abolish would smell the blood and know that he wasn’t doing well. He would stop and ask in that blunt tone if they wanted to leave. Pyro didn’t want to drag Abolish away, not when he was enjoying himself, not when Legundo had plans to meet Abolish there as well.)
Abolish, unaware of Pyro’s fear (or, a small voice in his head muttered, simply ignoring it), gave him a half-smile that on anyone else would indicate a wide grin. “I haven’t been to one of these since- uh, in a while. I’m gonna go grab some mead from the cart over there, and - yeah. You good for a minute?” Idly, Pyro wishes he was still human; or at least half-human. Could have some mead to settle his nerves, like Abolish, and sit side-by-side flushed and too loud and uncaring. It’s one of a hundred paths that lead to the same bitter road of thought, though, so he drops it.
Pyro nods. Again, he’s not sure if he’s convincing in his lies for once or Abolish is just out of patience for their anxiety, but either way Abolish listens to him and starts fording through the crowds towards a distant cart with a canopy of blue and white checked cloth.
And then Pyro is alone, and the lurch of their stomach is - there’s just so many people. A young woman walking by leans on him heavily for a moment, either looking for paying work or too intoxicated to notice the scars stippled over his neck and face. He barely manages to wave her off, the touch making their skin feel hot and crawling long after she’s stumbled off. He can barely resist the desire to guide her into an alley and-
Pyro’s nausea and panic increase at the realization that the end of that sentence wasn’t even feed, but touch. What kind of monster- what was happening-
“Pyro?”
Doctor Legundo is there, standing at their side, and he’s not Abolish but the sight of a familiar face is simultaneously relieving and horrifying because he doesn’t know what’s going on. Legs brings with him some smell that makes Pyro’s teeth hurt, like they want to sharpen. Like he’s hungry.
And now Pyro is being seen, looked at with rising concern. He doesn’t need to breathe, but right now it also feels like he can’t. It feels like he’s operating from the very back of his head, like sending signals as far as hands and feet to move requires concerted effort. The panic diminishes slightly when Legs takes an iron-tight grip on Pyro’s wrist and quickly pulls them away, moving briskly down the road despite Pyro’s faulty coordination. They walk past the calmer fire pits and storytellers, and out into one of the streets beyond.
After a brief moment fumbling with a heavy key, Legundo pulls Pyro into the the small library that acted as a reception parlor for his practice, which took up most of the lower floor of the building. Door shut carefully behind them, away from the smell and sound and temptation, Pyro feels slightly better. Then worse again, when he remembers what he was thinking of doing. There’s something wrong with them, some evil that’s making hunger grow inside them like mold.
Tone soft, reassuring, Legs says, “I know crowds can be a lot, for our senses. We can just take a minute in here. Sorry for- I can go get Abolish, if you’d like. Though I’m sure he’ll make his way here given time; he seems to have a sixth sense where you’re concerned.”
Feeling wretched at the kindness in Doc’s voice, Pyro scrunches his eyes shut so tightly light blooms across their vision. “It’s not- that.”
“Okay,” Legs says, and the hand he rests on their shoulder makes Pyro shiver. “So what’s wrong, Pyro?”
“I don’t know! I’m- I need…” They look away, eyes tracing over the leather-bound books and medical instruments filling the bookshelves on the opposite wall rather than continue and ruin whatever modicum of respect the doctor still retained for him.
“Blood? Are you hungry?”
It’s a reasonable question, but it’s both so close and so far from whatever sickening desire has possessed him that Pyro feels caught somehow. “No- Yes! Of course I’m hungry, I’m a fucking vampire, but I also… I need...” The words won’t come; he’s not even sure what would fix this, this feeling of hot skin and frantic need and hunger so cavernous it feels nauseating to consider.
Eyes calculating, Legundo scans him up and down for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is imbued with the confident tone of a command. “Show me what you need.”
Pyro crashes forward against Legs, who grunts at the impact but barely staggers given how broad and densely built he is. The feeling of another body against his makes some of the awful feeling go away. He normally prefers the unnatural warmth of Abolish (half-vampire biology was a sea of contradictions), but right now it’s the cold skin of another vampire that’s making him shudder, tension rushing out of what feels like every muscle at once.
The doctor’s arm presses along their lower back, and Pyro is hit with the humiliating realization that they’re clinging to Legs and- and whining, like some kind of dog. They freeze, head tucked against Legundo’s shoulder so they at least don’t have to see his expression at Pyro’s behavior.
“You’re fine.” Carefully, a hand moves up Pyro’s shoulder to slide under his coat and shirt. Legs sweeps a thumb back and forth on the skin above his clavicle, and involuntarily Pyro whines again. “You’re okay, you’re doing well Pyro. I said you should show me, you’re not doing anything wrong.”
Slowly, expecting to be stopped, Pyro shifts until his mouth is against Legundo’s throat. He pauses there, lips pressed firmly over his fangs for fear of accidentally biting down otherwise, and waits for… he’s not sure. He waits.
A laugh shakes the chest against his. The doctor’s hand shifts from his shoulder to wrap around and cradle his head, fingers idly scritching at the base of his neck. Like a dog, Pyro thinks, but there’s less venom in the thought now. “Go ahead.”
Pyro bites down, and the taste is- exquisite. Better than any animal blood, any human blood that he’s ever had. It’s hard not to gulp; he manages to slow down after two urgent swallows, and even as a vampire Legs sways for a few seconds after them.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Legundo says, and Pyro’s nose wrinkles slightly at the ticklish feeling of the person he’s drinking from talking. “We’ll let you drink your fill. I’ll go get Abolish, and then we try to find out what’s causing this- distress, for you. Some illness specific to vampires, perhaps?”
Pyro hums in agreement. Contentedly nuzzled in Legs’ arms as he starts to theorize, the chasm of need from earlier feels… manageable. Quietly, though, he thinks that whatever has changed inside him is not nearly so resolveable a shift as an illness.