Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lightning flashed above Lotor, briefly illuminating the forest he was stumbling through. He was soaked to his bones, which was a small mercy since it partially numbed his aching body. He used a shaking hand to shield his eyes from the rain and squinted into the distance. There, about a fifth of a mile away, the faint light from a lone house. A last hope.

Lotor took a step forward and tripped on a tree root, barely catching himself against the trunk. He cursed under his breath, hand clutching his abdomen where a large wound slowly oozed black blood.

“Fucking harpies,” Lotor hissed, cursing the creatures the witch had sent after him.

“Fucking witch, fucking rain, fucking fuck.” Lotor leaned more heavily against the tree, panting after his outburst. He knew it was a stupid waste of breath, but it still made a small tendril of satisfaction curl in his stomach.

He needed to hurry, though. He wasn’t going to be able to remain upright much longer.

He pushed off the tree—gritting his teeth against the pain in his stomach—and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

He wasn’t about to give that witch the satisfaction of killing him. He would make it. He would survive.

He had to.

Thunder rumbled while the rain pounded away at Shiro’s house from all sides. Shiro absently pet his pug Biscuit’s head from where she was sleeping against his side, snug between him and the armrest.

Echo, his husky mix, was dozing on her back with her legs in the air; while Norman, his chocolate lab, watched her with heavy eyes from across the room. Mochi, his Samoyed, was curled into a tight ball on Biscuit’s bed, which she was much too large for; and his german shepherd mix King was resting to the right of Shiro’s chair—his usual position—with his head on his paws.

Lightning flashed outside, briefly lighting up the dimly lit room through the curtained front window. A handful of seconds passed and then a crack of thunder followed.

Shiro loved storms like these—heavy rain, howling winds, great flashes of lightning and booming thunder. It always brought up memories of his childhood, spending summers with his grandparents in Japan. There, his grandfather had taught him how to gauge how close the lightning was by counting the seconds between the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder that followed.

Lightning flashed outside his front window once more, and Shiro began counting in his head.

One-one thousand; two-one thousand; three-one thousand; four-

A loud thump sounded from outside Shiro’s door, closely followed by a crash of thunder. All of his dogs perked their ears up—save Biscuit, who remained blissfully asleep—and looked towards the front of the house.

Shiro tensed and then forced himself to relax. It was probably nothing. Still, he gently picked Biscuit up and placed her on the floor before slowly standing up.

“Hello?” He called, immediately feeling like an idiot. Even if someone was outside, they couldn’t hear him from all the way in here.

Shiro started towards the front window that looked over his porch, King following a step behind him. His other dogs were all awake and alert now, too, though they stayed where they were, waiting for Shiro’s reaction.

Shiro pushed the curtain to the side and peeked out, trying to see anything in the darkness. When he couldn’t make anything out after several seconds, he cautiously reached out to flip the switch for the porch light.

“Probably just a branch that fell,” Shiro reassured himself before flipping the switch.

Shiro gasped. That definitely wasn’t a branch.

Lying face down halfway onto his porch was a person with long white hair and dark clothing. Shiro immediately pushed away from the window and rushed to open his door. All of his dogs clambered to join him, somewhere between anxious over his strange behavior and excited that he was opening the front door.

“Stay,” Shiro commanded them, all of his dogs stopping short of the threshold.

Shiro stepped out and quickly knelt beside the person, immediately taking in the fact that they weren’t moving.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Shiro had to shout above the deluge.

No answer.

He reached out carefully, fingers gently grasping the person’s shoulder to turn them onto their back. This time, the person groaned, their voice deep and pained sounding. Shiro quickly saw why.

“Oh, god,” Shiro chocked, taking in the disturbingly large slash across the stranger’s chest. “Shit.”

“Sir? Can you understand me?” Shiro asked again, hoping he hadn’t jolted the man’s wound too much.

Another pained groan was his only answer.

“Okay,” Shiro said to himself, quickly deciding on a plan of action. “I’m going to pick you up and bring you inside, okay?”

Not waiting to get any kind of response—and thanking whoever was out there looking out for him that he hadn’t taken his arm off for the night—Shiro carefully lifted the stranger onto his shoulder.

He grunted as he stood up, muscles straining under the stranger’s weight. He walked towards the door, his dogs moving aside to let him in before following after him towards the living room couch.

“King, door,” Shiro called behind his shoulder, trusting his service dog to close the front door.

Shiro slowly knelt beside the couch, carefully maneuvering the injured man onto the cushions. When he was finally laying down, Shiro breathed out a sigh from the exertion.

“Okay, now I need to call the police,” Shiro said, turning away to look around the room for his cell phone. “And maybe stop talking to myself.”

An icy hand suddenly gripped his wrist, startling Shiro. He whipped around to find the stranger looking up at him with surprisingly sharp eyes.

“No police,” he grunted, speaking with what Shiro could only assume was a British accent.

After a moment, the man added, “And no hospitals.”

“No hos-. Look, I’m not a doctor, and you look really hurt. I need to call an ambulance,” Shiro said, laying what he hoped was a reassuring hand over the one still gripping his wrist.

“No.” The man gave a weak shake of his head, his expression filling with frustration. “No ambulance. It’s not,” the man took a shaky breath, “as bad as it looks.”

Shiro stared at the man incredulously. Not that bad? He had a huge slash through his chest! And what kind of trouble was this guy in that he was willing to risk dying just to not get the police or hospital staff involved? Shiro wanted to tell the man he was crazy if he thought Shiro was going to take his word that he wouldn’t bleed out on his couch, but something stopped him.

Perhaps it was the desperate look in the man’s eyes, or the way his nails bit into Shiro’s arm where his icy hand still gripped him. Though, if he were honest, it was probably the quiet, shuddering ‘please’ the man whispered into the air between them that seemed to punch straight through Shiro’s chest.

Shiro squeezed the man’s cold hand. “Okay. No police, no hospitals.”

The man’s grip on Shiro’s arm finally slackened, and he visibly sank back into the couch cushions, relief written across his features.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut.

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said, lightly grabbing the man’s shoulder. “You need to stay awake. If you’re not going to a hospital, I need to clean, disinfect, and bandage your wound.”

The man didn’t open his eyes, but he did grimace and grunt in acknowledgement, which was good enough for Shiro.

He stood up with a quiet grunt and strode quickly to the bathroom where he kept his first aid kit under the sink. He grabbed a few clean towels, as well, before making his way to the kitchen to get a bowl and filling it with water.

He made his way back to the man’s side, careful not to spill any water. He placed everything on the ground, and then opened the first aid kit, pulling out a pair of scissors.

“I need to cut your shirt out of the way, okay?” Shiro said.

The man’s eyes had opened a fraction and he watched as Shiro brought the scissors closer to his body. Shiro kept his touch as impartial and efficient as he could, carefully pulling the shirt away from the man’s skin and slowly cutting it away. Fortunately, the rain seemed to have kept the shirt from sticking to his wound, which was smaller than Shiro had initially thought. However…

“This doesn’t look good,” Shiro said, looking at the blood that had gotten on his hand. It was the wrong consistency, not to mention far darker than blood should be.

“Blood definitely shouldn’t be this color,” Shiro said, doubt beginning to swirl in his chest. “I really think you should go to the hospital.”

“It’s normal. For me,” the man grunted. “And you gave your word.”

Shiro pressed his lips together before sighing heavily through his nose.

“Yeah. Okay, I. I’ll take your word for it.” He grabbed one of the towels he’d brought with him and dipped it in the water, squeezing out the access and starting to gently wipe away the blood and grim around the wound.

“Is it some sort of…blood disease?” Shiro asked, keeping careful watch of the wound. It looked like it had mostly stopped bleeding, but it was hard to tell.

“In a manner of speaking,” the man replied, rather cryptically. “Don’t worry, it’s…genetic. You won’t get it from touching my blood.”

“Good to know,” Shiro mumbled, wiping the last of the blood away. He opened the first aid kit again, this time withdrawing disinfectant and gauze.

“I’m gonna clean around the wound, now,” he told the man. “It’ll probably sting, so, sorry in advance.”

The man snorted. “I’ve had worse, I can assure you.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “So have I, but it’s still unpleasant.”

He could feel the man’s eyes suddenly focus on him, but he ignored it in favor of cleaning the wound. He wasn’t about to go into the worst months of his life with a guy whose name he didn’t even know. Which reminded him…

“Um. I never did get your name,” Shiro said, still staring at the wound and refusing to look at the man’s face. A few long seconds passed before the man replied.

“Lotor.”

“I’m Shiro.” He finally glanced back up at the man’s—Lotor’s—face and found dark eyes watching him intently.

Shiro cleared his throat, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny, and returned to cleaning Lotor’s wound. A silence fell between them, only interrupted by the occasional rumble of thunder or the yawn of one of his dogs, who were sitting—or, in the case of Biscuit, sleeping—behind Shiro.

When Shiro finally deemed the wound clean enough, he placed the dirty gauze into the water bowl and contemplated what to do next.

“You probably need stitches, but all I have are butterfly bandages, some larger bandages, and medical tape.” Shiro sighed. He was so underprepared for this whole situation.

When Lotor didn’t answer, Shiro looked up and found him asleep, his mouth opened ever so slightly. For the first time that night, Shiro took a moment to really look at this strange man’s face.

He looked… exhausted. Beautiful, yes—Shiro could tell that, if not for the circumstances, he’d be utterly stunning—but his brown skin looked worryingly dull and he had large, dark circles around his eyes. Shiro reached out and gently pushed some of his wet hair away from his face, and was surprised to find that even his eyelashes and eyebrows were a silvery white.

His hair is naturally white? he marveled.

Shiro cleared his throat harshly and pulled away, turning to dig through the first aid kit for bandages and trying to ignore how creepy he felt for doing that.

Just put a bandage on, give him a blanket, and go hide in your room, Shiro, he thought as he finally found the medical tape.

He carefully secured the bandage over the wound with the tape, and then busied himself with cleaning up. When everything was put away, he grabbed a heavy wool blanket from his closet and placed it over Lotor, making sure to tuck it around his feet.

Shiro looked around the room, trying to see if he’d forgotten anything, and noticed that Lotor’s head wasn’t being supported by a pillow. He grabbed one of the couch’s pillows that had been pushed onto the floor in all the rush, and then hesitated next to Lotor, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.

Shiro shook his head, forcefully dismissing his embarrassment. He reached out, gently placing his hand underneath Lotor’s head and lifting it just enough to slip the pillow underneath. He laid Lotor back down, careful not to pull any of his hair, and stepped back.

Lotor slept on, his breathing not even changing. Questions raced through Shiro’s head, jumbling his thoughts and making his stomach twist. What happened to this man? Who hurt him? Why didn’t he want the police involved? How’d he end up at Shiro’s house in the middle of nowhere?

Shiro sighed and turned to shut off the light. He’d just have to wait until the morning for his answers.

He started out of the room, calling softly for his dogs to follow him. They all scrambled up from their various states of dozing to follow him into his bedroom.

The door closed with a soft click and Shiro immediately collapsed backwards against it, letting his head thunk against the wood. He stood there, just breathing for a moment, and then looked down to find King and Biscuit watching him curiously, while the other three were already curled up in their beds.

“Crazy night, huh?”

Shiro sighed heavily before pushing away from the door, stripping his shirt off as he made his way towards his dresser. His body felt heavy and he wanted nothing more than to just curl up and go to sleep, but he still needed to clean off the blood from his prosthetic and take a much needed shower before that could happen.

He headed towards his in-suite bathroom to do just that, but paused at his bedroom door, eyes locked on the door knob. He slowly reached out and turned the lock on the door, glancing back at King and Biscuit.

“Just in case,” he told them.

Let’s hope he’s not secretly an ax murderer, Shiro thought to himself as he closed and locked his bathroom door, as well. Or worse, a dognapper.

Sleep was going to be a long way off.

The first thing that Lotor noticed when he awoke was that he was comfortably warm for the first time in weeks.

The second was that something was standing very close to him, panting heavily against the side of his face.

The third was that he was very, very hungry.

Unfortunately, the first wasn’t conducive to dealing with the other two, so with much regret, Lotor opened his eyes.

He turned his head to the side to find a small dog with a squished face that Lotor supposed was meant to be cute, but honestly just looked a bit sad. Unfortunately for Lotor, the somewhat pitiful dog clearly took his wakefulness as an invitation to greet him the proper dog way.

That is to say: the dog licked Lotor on the mouth.

“Ugh,” Lotor grunted, jerking back and trying to pull his arm from the blanket tucked around him to block the slobbery little beasty.

“Aw, Biscuit, no. Down girl,” a vaguely familiar voice called from somewhere behind him.

Lotor tensed, trying to place where he knew that voice as footsteps made their way around the couch and into view.

A tall, fit man came into view. He had strange, black-and-white hair, a scar across his face, and was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He immediately crouched next to Lotor, grabbing ‘Biscuit’ and holding her away from Lotor’s face. When he looked back up at Lotor, an embarrassed smile gracing his lips, Lotor’s fragmented memories from the night before suddenly came rushing back to him.

“It’s… Shiro, right?” Lotor asked.

“Yeah,” Shiro confirmed. “Oh, and sorry about Biscuit. She gets excited when we have visitors.”

Lotor hummed, giving a tight smile. They stared at each other for a few uncomfortably long seconds.

“What time is it?” Lotor asked, glancing at the—thankfully—closed curtains.

“Oh! About,” Shiro glanced down at his wrist where he was wearing an honest-to-god analog wrist watch. “11:30am.”

Lotor blinked. Well, shit. He’d been asleep a lot longer than he expected.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” Shiro said. “I thought you probably really needed the sleep.”

“I…yes. Most likely.” Lotor shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable.

He’d been injured and unconscious for nearly twelve hours in the company of a human he knew nothing about. He took the discomforted vulnerability he felt over the situation and swiftly locked it away. He didn’t have the time or patience to feel weak.

“So, uh…,” Shiro started, placing Biscuit on the floor and crossing his legs. “I know you’re probably not in the mood for a round of 20 questions, but I think I’ve kind of earned the right to a few answers.”

Lotor nodded stiffly, quickly trying to gauge how honest he should be with the human. One thing he had to take into consideration was the fact that he desperately needed to feed, both to accelerate the healing process and to, well, keep him from starving and possibly losing control.

Getting Shiro to voluntarily offer his blood to Lotor would be the most ideal situation, though he would do it by force if it came to that. Better to knock the man unconscious and steal a few mouthfuls of blood than to starve and end up committing murder when he lost control of his more primal urges in the desperation for survival.

The truth—or, at least, parts of it—was more likely to give him the results he needed, but it was also more likely to cause him problems. The man’s actions so far seemed to indicate that he had an overly trusting nature and was prone to kindness over self-preservation. But Lotor would need to place undue faith in that assessment if he was going to reveal anything to the human. Something Lotor was very much not comfortable with doing. As much as he hated placing his bets on sentiments as flimsy as hope and faith in a stranger, he had little choice in his current state.

He’d need to play his cards very carefully. And so with that in mind, Lotor pulled himself into a sitting position—the blanket pooling in his lap—and settled back into the couch facing Shiro.

“What would you like to know?”

Shiro took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands for a moment, Lotor following his gaze—was that a prosthetic?—before meeting Lotor’s eyes.

“Whoever did that to you,” Shiro gestured towards Lotor’s chest, “are they still chasing you?”

Shiro took Lotor’s furrowed brow as indication he needed to rephrase his question.

“The people that hurt you, are they going to find you here?”

Oh, Lotor thought, suppressing any outward reaction. Aren’t you a clever human?

“No, they won’t be causing trouble for me any longer,” Lotor said with absolute certainty.

They wouldn’t be causing any trouble because all three of the harpies the witch had sent to kill him were dead. From the look on Shiro’s face, the man could assume why Lotor was so self-assured. Oddly enough, he looked neither afraid nor already distrustful.

Waiting for the whole story before passing judgement? Lotor wondered. How rare.

“Is that why you didn’t want the police involved?”

“Partly,” Lotor said, purposefully glancing aside to avoid Shiro’s gaze.

“And the other part?” Shiro prompted, tensing.

Lotor paused before answering, choosing his words wisely. “Because they wouldn’t have been able to help me, nor would a hospital. And because, ultimately, their interference would paint targets on their backs.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, taking this in. “What do you mean a hospital wouldn’t have been able to help? You have a huge slash through your chest, and a hospital could sure as hell do a better job than me.”

“If I told you why, you wouldn’t believe me,” Lotor answered, purposefully being cryptic. Better that Shiro thought Lotor didn’t want him to know.

“Does it have something to do with that… blood disease you mentioned last night?” Shiro asked.

Lotor wasn’t quite successful in suppressing his snort.

“Is that what I called it?”

Lotor sighed at Shiro’s confused look, sounding resigned. Here goes nothing.

“The truth of it all—why I didn’t want the police involved, why the hospital would be useless to me, and why my blood was both the wrong color and consistency—is that I am a vampire.”

Lotor watched as Shiro’s expression remained utterly impassive after his declaration.

“A vampire,” he said, voice flat. It wasn’t a question, but Lotor answered anyway.

“Yes.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m completely serious.”

“Right,” Shiro said, nodding once before getting to his feet.

“I’m not insane,” Lotor told him, knowing that the inevitable, full-scale reveal would need to happen soon.

“No, hey, I never said anything like that,” Shiro placated, hands in front of him like he was trying to sooth a wild animal. Insulting, but Lotor understood why the human would have the impulse.

“If it’s proof you need, I can easily provide it,” Lotor said.

Shiro hesitated a moment before crossing his arms and nodding. “Okay. What’s your proof?”

Closing his eyes for effect, Lotor pushed his true features forward, rearranging his shifted appearance. He felt his ears lengthen into long points, his fangs pushing their way into his mouth, his claws lengthening. And when he finally opened his eyes again, teeth bared to show his fangs, he knew his irises had turned from dark blue to gold.

Shiro stumbled backwards in shock, reaching out and catching himself on a nearby chair. Biscuit, still by her master’s side, started barking, and another four dogs came running into the room. Lotor suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow. That’s an awful lot of dogs.

“Holy shit,” Shiro breathed out, voice barely even a whisper.

Lotor settled into the shift, retracting his claws and fangs—both for personal comfort and to appear less threatening to his human host.

“Holy shit,” Shiro repeated, sounding stronger.

He looked down and quietly shushed his dogs, petting several on the head to comfort them. When he looked back at Lotor, his expression was filled with wonder.

“Vampires are real,” he said, seemingly talking to himself, though Lotor answered anyway.

“Yes.”

Lotor paused, tilting his head to the side in consideration.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he commented.

Shiro laughed, sounding a little breathless.

“Am I? I mean, I’m a little freaked out, but,” his face scrunched up like he couldn’t quite find the word he wanted. “It’s also kind of cool?”

“…Cool.”

“I mean, well. It’s… fascinating. Incredible. I don’t know, just… Wow!” Shiro huffed a laugh. “And I suddenly have a hundred more questions for you.”

Lotor gave a minute shake of his head, feeling an odd swirl of flattered and confused by Shiro’s reaction.

“You’re curious… but not afraid?”

Shiro opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head and then looked back at Lotor.

“Should I be?”

“Probably,” Lotor said. “Aren’t humans naturally afraid of monsters? Aren’t there thousands of horror stories about my kind?”

“There are also thousands of romantic stories about vampires,” Shiro returned, tone joking before sobering in the next moment. “And every monster I’ve ever met has been 100% human. You don’t seem so monstrous in comparison.”

Lotor jerked back as though he’d been struck, but quickly recovered, leaning back against the couch and reassessing his original opinion of Shiro. He wasn’t just quick to trust and prone to reckless kindness. He was also remarkably adaptable, stupidly brave, and clearly had some secrets of his own.

“You’re a strange human.”

One side of Shiro’s lips quirked up in a lop-sided smile. “I’d say the same to you, but you’re the only vampire I’ve ever met, so, really, you might be pretty ordinary.”

Lotor couldn’t stop the somewhat bitter laugh that bubbled up from that comment.

“No, I’m not much like other vampires, either.”

Shiro looked like that sparked a hundred more questions, so Lotor gestured towards the other side of the couch for him to sit. Shiro quickly took a seat, his dogs following and sitting around him.

“Was it another vampire that hurt you?” Shiro asked, turned with one leg folded under him so he could face Lotor.

Lotor turned so that he was leaning against the armrest, folding both of his legs underneath him and placing his hands on his knees.

“No. I was attacked by harpies sent by a witch who works for another vampire, however,” Lotor said, spitting out the word ‘witch’ like a curse.

“Sounds complicated,” Shiro said, eyebrows raised. “So, this other vampire wants you dead?”

“Eventually, I’m sure. Though it seemed the harpies were trying to capture me alive. It’s as you said: complicated.”

Lotor paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and preparing himself for the unpleasant conversation topic.

“The other vampire is known as Zarkon, and he’s the oldest vampire currently in existence.”

“How old is that?” Shiro interrupted.

“About four thousand years old.”

Shiro’s jaw dropped. “Wow.”

“Yes, he’s quite old, even by vampire standards. He’s also my father.”

“What?” Shiro asked, sounding more shocked than he had when Lotor had shown him his fangs. “Your father tried to kill you?”

Lotor smiled thinly. “We have a…complicated history. Or, really, not that complicated. He doesn’t like me very much, but he also feels a certain amount of proprietary care.”

“So, he doesn’t like you, but feels like he owns you?” Shiro asked.

Lotor gave a shrugging nod. It was as apt a description of their relationship as any, and he didn’t much feel like continuing in this particular vein of conversation.

“Zarkon is my father, but my mother was Honerva, an elf druid. Thus, I am half vampire, half elf.”

“Elves are a thing, too?” Shiro asked incredulously.

“Yes, elves exist as well. Most, if not all of the mythical beings and monsters you’ve heard stories of are very, very real.”

“Are dragons real?” Shiro asked, leaning forward, a child-like hopefulness shining in his eyes.

Lotor laughed, surprising himself with its authenticity. He hadn’t meant to laugh, but he couldn’t quite stop the sound from bubbling up.

“Yes, though I’ve never met one myself. They’re said to be exceedingly rare and aggressively protected by their keepers, who, from what I’ve read, are mages as ancient as the dragons they protect.”

“Cool,” Shiro whispered, making Lotor smile.

“If I may continue…?” Lotor asked.

“Right, yeah, sorry.” Shiro waved his hand in front of himself and ducked his head slightly, looking embarrassed. It was somewhat…endearing.

“Zarkon is the king of vampires, and he has ruled for nearly three millennia. In that time, he has changed vampire kind into something unrecognizable.”

Lotor paused, choosing his words carefully. “Zarkon is… obsessed with power. He believes that vampires are the most powerful beings on the planet, and therefore should be the dominant species. And he’s led the vast majority of other vampires into subscribing to this belief.”

Shiro’s joy from earlier had completely disappeared, replaced with a quiet… something. Not anger, but something dark and very unhappy.

“Yeah, I’ve met people like that before,” his voice rumbling darkly.

“I’m sure, but humans don’t require another species’ blood to survive, nor do they have access to magic,” Lotor replied. “Zarkon’s witch, Haggar, is incredibly powerful. She is a master of dark magic, with the ability to not only create but resurrect unholy abominations, such as harpies, cyclops, and hell hounds.”

“Together, she and my father have plans to overthrow the human race as the dominant species and make way for an age where vampires rule supreme. Of course, some humans will be allowed to live, turned into nothing more than blood sacks to feed Zarkon’s legions.”

For the first time, Lotor saw the beginnings of fear in Shiro’s eyes.

“Christ,” Shiro whispered, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Of course, not every vampire supports Zarkon. Though we are few, there are still those of us who are trying to stop him. I was heading to a meeting of—well, I suppose you could call us the rebels—when I caught on that the witch was using harpies to track me. I led them away so they wouldn’t discover the others and then faced. While I was able to kill all three, one unfortunately got to me first before I could kill her.”

Shiro glanced down at Lotor’s chest, frowning.

“Will you heal okay? I mean, I know you can’t go to a hospital, but… Can I help in some way?”

“Actually,” Lotor said, seeing a chance to finally bring the pressing issue of his hunger. “There is something you could do for me.”

“What?” Shiro asked, sounding incredibly earnest.

Of course I’d happen upon an honestly good man, Lotor thought. He was still on the fence about whether that was a good thing or not, though it was serving his purposes well at the moment.

“I need blood,” Lotor admitted. “It’s been over four days since I last fed, and it would also accelerate my healing. I know it’s a bit… much to ask for, but, well. It is a necessity for vampires.”

“Um, how much blood?”

“No more than what you’d give at a blood bank,” Lotor assured him.

“And I won’t…turn into a vampire or anything?” Shiro asked.

Lotor laughed, though not cruelly. “No, you will definitely not turn into a vampire. It’s quite literally just like donating blood, only I’ll be drinking it.”

Shiro nodded slightly to himself. “Okay. Let’s do it. Um, what do I need to do?”

“You have a first aid kit, yes? We’ll likely need that, as well as a large glass.”

Shiro looked bemused for a moment before nodding and excusing himself to get what Lotor asked for. While he was gone, Lotor reached down into one of the compartments attached to his belt—thankfully still intact—and removed a small metal box.

He opened the box and took out an unopened package containing a needle attached to a stopper and a thick rubber band. He left the rubbing alcohol and swab in the box, deciding not to waste his stash when he could use Shiro’s.

Shiro returned with the items Lotor requested, and looked curiously at what Lotor was holding. Lotor took the first aid kit and glass from Shiro, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“Sit, please,” Lotor instructed.

Shiro took a seat beside him, and watched as Lotor took out the rubbing alcohol, cotton swabs, a pair of latex gloves, and a bandage.

“Which arm would you prefer?” Lotor asked as he pulled the gloves on.

Shiro looked at him amusedly—glancing pointedly between his prosthetic arm and his flesh arm—before holding out his left. Lotor huffed an embarrassed laugh, and took Shiro’s arm gently in hand, pulling it closer to himself.

Lotor wrapped the rubber band around Shiro’s upper arm and then pressed his fingers against his inner arm, looking for a vein. When he found one, he poured some rubbing alcohol on a swab and wiped thoroughly around the area. He then grabbed the needle package, opening it and pulling it free.

“Wait,” Shiro said, making Lotor freeze and look up at him. “You’re actually using a needle?”

“Yes?” Lotor answered, though it came out as a question.

“So, you’re not going to bite me?”

Lotor leveled a withering look at Shiro.

“I’m a vampire, not a barbarian.”

Shiro barked a laugh. Lotor huffed before returning to the task at hand. He carefully slid the needle into Shiro’s vein—Shiro barely even twitched at the invasion—and then grabbed for the glass he’d left on the table. He positioned the glass underneath and then turned the stopper to allow the blood to flow freely.

Lotor watched carefully as the glass was slowly filled, consciously keeping his fangs from dropping at the sight.

“Well, this is kinda weird,” Shiro muttered.

When Lotor looked up at him, careful to keep his hands steady, Shiro smiled at him.

“Which part?” Lotor asked, looking back down at his hands.

“This whole situation is pretty surreal, really. But probably the part where I’m sitting on my couch on a Saturday morning and letting a guy I’ve known for less than a day take about a pint of my blood.”

Lotor glanced back up at Shiro, whose face was serious while his eyes twinkled playfully.

“Also, finding out vampires are real. And harpies. And witches. And elves. Oh, and dragons, can’t forget dragons.”

“Werewolves are real, too, you know,” Lotor commented, playing along. “And fairies, mermaids, chimeras, centaurs…”

“Fairies?” Shiro asked, sounding nearly as excited as he was about dragons.

“Oh, yes,” Lotor said. “And they’re very… eccentric. They also hold grudges, especially against people who are rude, and come in far more shapes and sizes than what Peter Pan would have you believe.”

Shiro laughed.

“What about pixie dust?” Shiro joked.

“Oh, pixies are an entirely separate devil all themselves, the nasty little beasts,” Lotor said, scowling down at the half full glass in his hand.

“Wait, what’s wrong with pixies?”

“They bite,” Lotor said. “And they travel in swarms, so if one pixie is biting you, twenty more are going to do the exact same thing. Also, their venomous.”

“Seriously?” Shiro asked, sounding less playful and more disturbed.

“Seriously. And while one pixie won’t kill you, it’s never just one fucking pixie.”

“Have experience with that, do you?” Shiro asked, amused again.

Lotor decided not to dignify that with a response, instead sending a glare up at Shiro, who smiled serenely in response.

Finally, Shiro’s blood was nearing the top of the glass. Lotor turned the stopper, blocking the flow, and placed the full glass of blood on the table. He grabbed one of the clean cotton gauze and placed it over where the needle was embedded in Shiro’s arm, pressing down as he pulled the needle free.

Lotor grabbed the band aid, tearing open the package, and placed it over the gauze, securing it in place.

“Well, that was easy,” Shiro commented.

Lotor barely heard him, though, as he reached for the full glass. The closer to sating his hunger he got, the harder he had to fight for control. He took the glass in hand and brought it too his lips, the sweet, metallic scent filling his senses before the taste poured over his tongue.

Thick and warm, the blood slipped down his throat, dousing the flames of his burning hunger while also filling the rest of his body with a pleasant warmth. He could feel all his injuries healing, the flesh knitting itself back together.

All of his being was concentrated on the sweet, red liquid he greedily swallowed down, until suddenly the glass was empty. Lotor pulled the glass away with a gasp, his eyes flashing open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

Lotor ran his tongue over his lips, catching a stray drop of blood that had threatened to drip down. It took several long moments before he came back to his senses, suddenly remembering the other man in the room.

Lotor looked over at Shiro and found widened eyes, pink dusted cheeks, and slightly parted lips. How embarrassing, Lotor thought. That must have been a shock to him.

At least he didn’t look disgusted, Lotor reasoned.

“I apologize,” Lotor said, clearing his throat. “I was rather hungrier than I realized.”

“No, you’re, uh,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s fine.”

Lotor’s lips twitched up into a brief smile before his mouth was taken over in a yawn.

“You could probably use some more sleep,” Shiro said, standing up rather suddenly.

And nearly falling, barely catching himself on the back of the couch.

“You’re likely dizzy from blood loss. You should eat something and lie down,” Lotor explained.

“Right, yeah,” Shiro said, righting himself. “Um, do you want to borrow a shirt? Yours is kind of… ruined.”

“Oh,” Lotor said, glancing down at his bandaged chest. “Yes, thank you.”

Lotor pushed himself to his feet, steady now that he had some blood in him. He glanced over at Shiro, who was standing rather close, and was silently pleased to find that he was a bit taller than the other man. An odd feeling that he wasn’t going to examine.

“Um,” Shiro said, before moving away and gesturing for Lotor to follow.

He led him down a hallway to what Lotor assumed was a guest bathroom, which was modern but modest, like the rest of the house seemed to be. Thankfully, it was windowless. Shiro left him there for a moment before returning with a change of clothes.

“Feel free to freshen up, or even shower if you want,” Shiro said, placing the clothes on the counter. “There’re clean towels in the cabinet, and you’re welcome to use anything in here. There’s probably a spare tooth brush, if you want to brush your teeth. And, uh, yeah. I’ll leave you to it.”

Shiro turned to leave, but Lotor called his name to stop him before he could fully retreat.

“I just realized that I haven’t thanked you for all you’ve done for me,” Lotor said. “So, thank you, Shiro.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Shiro’s lips.

“You’re welcome, Lotor.”

Chapter Text

“Thank you, Shiro.”

Shiro felt a slight tug on his heart at how awkward those words sounded coming from Lotor, like he wasn’t used to receiving help and so didn’t really know how to thank someone for it. He smiled against the feeling, though, not wanting to make Lotor feel more awkward.

“You’re welcome, Lotor.”

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him and made his way to the kitchen. King, who had followed them to the bathroom, diligently walked a step behind Shiro. Once in the kitchen, he went about making himself some eggs.

Lotor had given Shiro a lot to think about, and he was thankful for his skill at compartmentalizing because otherwise he might have been overwhelmed. As it was, he still had a lot to process.

While he was undeniably curious about Lotor and his world, he was far more concerned about the impending threat that Zarkon and Haggar posed. He needed more information, but more than that, he needed to warn people.

He considered his options as he cracked three eggs into a pan. No one was likely to believe him unless he brought Lotor along to prove it to them, but he didn’t know how likely the vampire was to let more humans in on his secret. There was probably a very good reason a whole other world of incredible beings had remained hidden for so long, and Shiro could definitely take a guess.

Humans weren’t exactly known for taking kindly to things they didn’t understand, even more so if they posed a potential threat.

He needed to find someone who would take him seriously—and not think he was off his rocker—who could actually do something about all this, and who wouldn’t immediately see all of the beings in Lotor’s world as a threat.

That left out any of his old contacts from the military—especially General Iverson. As much as they respected each other, Shiro knew the man wasn’t the best at handling delicate matters.

Keith, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Shiro almost dropped the spatula in his hand at the memory. God, it had been nearly 3 years since he last saw the man. Three years… damn, had it really been that long?

Keith had left the Air Force around the same time Shiro was honorably discharged after… after. Shiro had had mixed feelings about the whole thing, and right after everything he’d been pretty messed up in the head. And Keith giving up a promising career in the Air Force to help a shadow of the man Shiro used to be? He hadn’t felt worthy of that kind of devotion.

Never really felt worthy, but at least before their relationship had been more two-sided. Two lonely men desperate for connection, for family, who found each other and became what the other needed most. After… Shiro felt like he was just dragging Keith down with him.

They’re relationship had been tense and tenuous for a while, but once Shiro started attending therapy and going to group down at the local VA, things improved between them. Shiro respected Keith, and that meant respecting Keith’s decisions. Even if he still didn’t agree with them.

Then, about four years ago Keith was approached by an agent from a government organization Shiro had never heard of: the B.O.M. The Bureau of… something, Shiro couldn’t really remember.

After several months of tests and training, Keith accepted a position within the organization. He tried to stay in touch with Shiro, but whatever the organization did, Keith wasn’t allowed to talk about his work. At all. Shiro would be worried if Keith didn’t seem so certain he was doing the right thing.

It had been a long time since they last spoke, though, and even longer since they last saw each other, but…

Shiro trusted Keith, and he knew, deep down, that if anyone would believe him about Zarkon and Haggar, it would be him. He’d get as much information from Lotor as he could—maybe even convince Lotor to come with him—and then he’d call and ask Keith if they could meet.

With his mind made up, Shiro turned the stove off and put his scrambled eggs on a plate. He seasoned the eggs with some cheddar and spices, and then leaned against the counter and started steadily shoveling them into his mouth. Distantly, he noted the sound of the shower being turned off.

Shiro shifted a bit, suddenly remembering who, exactly, was in his bathroom. Naked and wet. He shoveled more eggs in his mouth and tried not to think about that.

Watching Lotor methodically take his blood had been odd, but actually watching him drink it had been one of the strangest and most uncomfortable situations Shiro had ever found himself in. Though, most of the discomfort was Shiro’s own fault, he knew.

So, Shiro could tell that Lotor was attractive. It didn’t matter, it was fine, not like Shiro was unfamiliar with attraction. Just, he hadn’t really… done anything with anyone in a while. Or, more than a while. Not that it mattered, and not that he was going to do anything now. It was a monumentally bad idea for a lot of reasons, not to mention he barely knew the man.

Still, watching Lotor tip his head back, his long neck on full display, and drink Shiro’s own blood had led to the worst mixture of arousal and nausea Shiro had ever experienced.

Not that it mattered. Because it didn’t. Because Shiro wasn’t going to do anything about it.

He promptly decided to stop thinking about it. Which was precisely when Lotor made his entrance.

If Shiro hadn’t been facing the doorway to the kitchen, he wouldn’t have even known Lotor had left the bathroom he moved so quietly. Shiro wondered, in the back of his mind, if that was due to being a vampire or just something specific to Lotor.

“Hey,” Shiro said, giving Lotor a once over.

His damp hair was pulled into a loose braid that hung over his shoulder and made his angular face look softer, somehow. He was about Shiro’s size, maybe a tad taller and thinner, so the well-worn long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants Shiro’d lent him fit him fairly well. A healthy glow seemed to have returned to his skin, as well, and he didn’t look quite as exhausted as he had the night before.

Overall, he was unreasonably pretty.

“Hello,” Lotor answered.

“I can wash those, if you want,” Shiro said, gesturing towards the dirty clothes Lotor was holding and pretending like he hadn’t been staring. “And you can just leave your shoes by the door.”

Lotor smiled softly, and for a moment Shiro forgot what they were talking about. “That’s very kind of you. You’ve been incredibly hospitable to me, and I’m not sure how I can repay you for all you’ve done.”

Shiro chuckled, placing his now empty plate in the sink behind him. “I still have some questions, if you’re up for answering them?”

Lotor’s smile dropped a bit. “I’ll do my best.”

Lotor turned to leave and then froze, every muscle suddenly tensed and unnaturally still.

“Lotor?” Shiro asked, feeling uneasy.

Lotor didn’t answer, but twisted his head slightly to the side like he was trying to listen for something. Shiro glanced to the side when he saw movement in his peripheral and watched as King stood and walked slowly towards Lotor, ears pricked forward. They were clearly both listening to something that Shiro couldn’t hear.

“Lotor, what’s going on?” Shiro asked, lowering his voice to match the tense mood.

“Something’s here,” Lotor replied, matching Shiro’s tone.

Shiro moved away from the counter as quietly as he could.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean a human or animal,” Shiro whispered when he reached Lotor’s shoulder.

Instead of answering, Lotor pulled a cylindrical device from the utility belt he was still wearing under Shiro’s clothes. Lotor flicked his wrist out and a sword blade suddenly extended from the end, glinting threateningly in the kitchen’s florescent lights.

Shiro stared for a moment in shock before blinking away his surprise.

“I don’t suppose you have another one of those?” Shiro asked, half joking.

Lotor glanced at Shiro from the corner of his eye.

“No.”

Well, okay then. Shiro briefly scanned the kitchen, then reached over and grabbed one of his large kitchen knives. He hefted it in his hand, testing the weight of it. He shrugged; better than nothing.

Lotor set his shoes and clothes on the ground and then made his way into the living room slowly, moving silently. Shiro followed behind him, holding the knife defensively in front of himself; King followed a step behind, the soft click of his claws on the floor the only sound in the room.

Mochi, Echo, and Norman looked up from where they were lounging around in the living room. Shiro made a low noise to get all of their attention, then pointed towards his bedroom.

“Bedroom,” he said, loud as he dared.

Mochi, Echo, and Norman obediently got to their feet and trotted out of the room. Shiro looked down at King and gestured at him.

“You, too, King,” he said, making a shooing motion.

King laid his ears back, but obediently turned tail and followed the others out of the room. When Shiro looked back at Lotor, he was staring at the dimly lit front curtain with a look of frustration. It took Shiro a moment to connect the dots.

“Do you want me to look out?” Shiro offered.

Lotor paused, seemingly considering his options. Before he could answer, a blood curdling howl sounded from right outside the house. Three more howls followed the first, the din making the skin on the back of his neck prickle with instinctual fear.

“Shit,” Lotor breathed.

“What was that?”

Lotor turned his head to look back at Shiro, his eyes hard and a touch fearful.

“Hellhounds.”

Lotor moved past him, moving faster than Shiro knew logically he should be able to. Shiro turned and saw Lotor rummaging through his kitchen..

“What are you doing?”

“I need salt,” Lotor said by way of explanation, voice strained.

Shiro followed him into the kitchen.

“Salt?” Shiro asked, feeling lost and a bit panicked in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d enlisted.

Lotor looked at him from where he was looking through his cabinet, his eyes intense.

“Shiro, I need you to focus. Where do you keep salt?”

Shiro startled into motion, opening the cabinet next to the one Lotor had been rummaging in. He grabbed the half-full container of salt he used to refill the salt shaker.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Lotor.

Lotor set the salt on the counter and then turned on the sink, running both sides of his blade under the spray for a brief moment. He turned the faucet off and then started pouring salt thoroughly over both sides of the blade, covering it. Shiro watched while he started drawing symbols in the salt with his finger tip, flipping the blade over and writing the same ones on each side.

“What are you doing?” Shiro whispered.

“Shush, I need to concentrate,” Lotor said, before holding his hand over the blade and starting to mumble incoherently.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at being shushed, but watched interestedly as the blade started to glow with a heat-less purple flame. Suddenly, both Lotor’s quiet mumbling and the purple flame stopped.

The symbols Lotor had drawn in the salt were now glowing a very faint purple, and all the salt that had covered the blade moments before was gone.

“Hellhounds are invisible, and near impossible to kill,” Lotor said, moving back towards the living room in quick strides. “You’d do best to join your dogs in—“

Lotor was cut off by the front window suddenly shattering inward, glass going everywhere and the curtains billowing in the sudden wind. Lotor flinched back, away from the sunlight that briefly got through the curtains.

Shiro looked around, mind working overtime to come up with a way to fight something he couldn’t see. He heard the faint tinkling of glass and looked down, noticing the way glass seemingly shifted on its own.

“Lotor, watch the glass!” Shiro said, pointing at the glass.

Before he could find out whether Lotor realized what Shiro was telling him, something rammed into his chest, throwing him backwards. The knife fell out of his hand as he hit the far wall, his head slamming backwards and cracking against the hard wood.

Then, the world went dark.

“Shiro!” Lotor yelled, taking a step towards the man.

He felt something coming towards him and dodged to the left, rolling on his side. Another came at him, and he barely dodged it, the Hellhound’s side nicking him.

Lotor struck out immediately with his sword and felt the end hit something solid where there only looked to be empty air. He heard a yelp from the hound, but only had a moment to feel smug before another was on him, its teeth digging into his arm.

Lotor cried out, but didn’t hesitate to strike with his sword, the blade sinking satisfyingly into flesh.

The hound released him with a whimper, but Lotor didn’t wait for it to run, twisting the sword and slicing upward in a motion meant to sever the beast’s spine. Its responding howl was quickly cut off as it burst into flames, briefly illuminating its shape before it folded into itself and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Without missing a beat, another hound dug its teeth into Lotor’s right calf, while another grabbed onto Lotor’s sword arm. Both began trying to drag him in different directions, forcing Lotor to tense his muscles against them. It had the unfortunate side effect of their teeth digging deeper and tearing his flesh.

Lotor grabbed his sword from his injured arm, turning the blade and stabbing it directly over where the hound had its teeth embedded in his arm. The blade sliced through the Hellhound’s skull, killing it instantly as evidenced by the flames engulfing it and briefly burning Lotor’s arm still in its jaws.

Ignoring the pain, Lotor didn’t hesitate before flipping the blade in his grasp and swiping it in a broad stroke, cutting straight through the Hellhound behind him.

Once the third hound blinked from existence, Lotor turned to watch the glass scattered around the room as Shiro had tried to warn him. Several pieces of glass moved close to where Shiro was lying against the wall, unconscious. Lotor tried to lunge towards the movement, but his injured leg buckled under him, forcing him onto his knee.

Instead of pressing its sudden advantage, the invisible Hellhound made its way out of the house and back through the window, the sound of glass tinkling against glass Lotor’s only indicator of the beast’s movements.

“Shit.”

Lotor slowly pushed himself back to his feet, feeling his skin start to knit itself back together. He was fortunate he’d fed so recently, otherwise the hounds would have easily overtaken him. As it was, he’d need to feed within the next few days to make up for his new wounds.

He held still for a few moments, stretching his senses to see if any hounds remained. When he didn’t sense anything, he flicked his wrist to sheath his blade and then walked over to Shiro as quickly as he could, kneeling beside him.

“Shiro,” he called, reaching out and pressing his fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse.

He breathed a sigh of relief at the strong beating of Shiro’s heart, then moved Shiro so he was leaning more securely against the wall.

“Shiro,” he repeated, voice stronger.

Shiro still didn’t stir, knocked out cold. Behind him, Lotor heard the sound of claws clicking against wood. He whipped around with a hiss, his claws and fangs extending naturally without a weapon in his hand to protect himself.

When he came face-to-face with King, Biscuit, and Shiro’s other dogs, Lotor relaxed, his claws and fangs slipping away. King walked past Lotor and sniffed at Shiro’s throat, whining softly when Shiro didn’t respond. He pushed his face under Shiro’s prosthetic arm, getting it around his back and supporting some of Shiro’s weight.

Lotor watched curiously, impressed by the dogs aptitude. He hesitantly reached out, letting his hand hover in front of King briefly before brushing against the top of his head in a comforting pat.

“He will be okay,” he said, not sure if he was reassuring the dog or himself.

Lotor dropped his hand and considered his next move. First, he should move Shiro somewhere more comfortable. He went to Shiro’s other side, where King wasn’t holding the man up. He pulled Shiro’s arm around his shoulders and then grabbed underneath his knees. He lifted Shiro into his arms, leaning back so the man’s head leaned against his chest.

King stood to follow them as Lotor carried Shiro into his bedroom. He placed the man carefully onto the bed, laying his head down as gently as he could. King jumped up onto the bed beside him, pushing his way underneath Shiro’s prosthetic arm again and laying his head on Shiro’s chest.

Lotor leaned back, and took the opportunity to really look at the human, taking his time cataloguing his features. He was… quite handsome. He had a masculine look to him with his strong jaw and thick eyebrows, and all those… muscles. But there was also a certain softness to the man, something that made him look kind, in a weathered sort of way.

Lotor looked back up to Shiro’s face and the scar going across his nose. It looked clean, like it had been done by a particularly sharp weapon. Probably a blade of some sort, Lotor reasoned. He gently brushed Shiro’s white fringe up, looking closely and finding scaring under the hair.

The man had clearly been through hell, and Lotor was curious about the stories behind this myriad of old wounds. He was such a curious human, and kind. Smart and brave and-.

Lotor withdrew his hand, clenching it into a fist. He shouldn’t… But, well, the man was involved now, wasn’t he? Lotor had gotten him involved when he’d failed to stop that last hellhound from escaping. Or, before that, really. When he’d stumbled onto Shiro’s porch in the middle of a storm.

And now, the witch knew where Lotor was, and that Shiro was helping him.

If she ever got her claws into Shiro… there was no version of this story that ended happily for the human.

Lotor forced himself to unclench his fist. He needed to calm down and think. He needed a plan, to come up with a way to get Shiro and himself out of the witch’s grasp.

He turned and walked out of the bedroom to the front room. He stopped at the edge where the glass shards hadn’t reached. The room was a mess, with furniture pushed around, glass everywhere, and the coffee table in pieces.

Lotor suppressed a wince. He… didn’t remember that breaking, in the scuffle.

He sighed and carefully made his way into the kitchen, looking around for a broom and dust pan. He could clean and plan at the same time.

Shiro came to with a groan, lifting his hand to touch gingerly at his aching head. God, he hurt all over. But mostly in his head. He hoped he didn’t have a concussion.

When he finally managed to crack his eyes open, he found an excited King staring at him, tail twitching in that way that said he wanted to wag his tail, but didn’t want to disturb Shiro.

“Hey, bud,” Shiro grumbled, rubbing the top of King’s head clumsily.

Shiro tried sitting up slowly, King moving off of his chest, but keeping close. Shiro groaned as a wave of dizziness washed over him, making him feel faint for a moment before it thankfully passed.

“Damn,” he whispered.

“How are you feeling?”

Shiro looked up, jerking his head too quickly and making it ache something fierce. Lotor was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and hair loose around his shoulders. The tips of his pointy ears were sticking out of his hair, and it was probably the cutest thing Shiro had ever seen in his life. Damn.

“Been better, been worse,” Shiro said, poking at his head some more and ignoring his stupid feelings. “Don’t think I have a concussion.”

“That’s a relief,” Lotor said, a small smile gracing his lips, though he didn’t move any closer.

“How long have I been out?” Shiro suppressed a wince when he pocked at a sore spot, putting his hand down so he wouldn’t hurt himself more.

“About an hour.”

Well, damn.

“What happened after I was knocked out?” Shiro asked, finally having the wherewithal to look Lotor over for injuries. Both sleeves of the long sleeve shirt Shiro had lent him were torn and bloody, as was one of his pants legs.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, concerned.

“Ah,” Lotor said, glancing down at his ragged sleeves. “I was, but have since healed. Thanks to you, actually. If I hadn’t fed so recently, the hounds likely would have overpowered me.”

“You heal that quickly?” Shiro asked, shocked.

“When I’m well fed,” Lotor replied, sounding amused.

Shiro huffed a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “What were those things?”

“Hellhounds,” Lotor said, his lip curling up. “Terrible creatures who are very good at tracking and killing. They have to be summoned by a powerful magic user to be able to exist in this realm.”

Shiro was still trying to wrap his head around “magic user” and “this realm” when Lotor sighed, forcing Shiro to concentrate back on him.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I wasn’t careful, after the harpies. I left a trail when I shouldn’t have. I should have expected that the witch would send something worse after me…”

“Hey, no, come on,” Shiro said. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have,” Lotor replied, his body tense as a coiled spring. He glanced up at Shiro, his eyes filled with regret.

“And that was merely my first mistake. My second was allowing a hound to escape after the attack. The witch,” Lotor’s mouth curled up in a hateful sneer at her mention. “Likely already knows about you. It won’t matter that you barely know anything, that you’re just a human who got caught in the middle. Not to her.”

Shiro’s heart was pounding in his chest and causing his temples to throb to the same beat. “What does that mean?”

Lotor sighed and finally moved further into the room. He stopped at the foot of Shiro’s bed.

“It means that if she gets to you—and she will be coming for you—she will torture you until she realizes that you have no information for her. And then she will give to my father’s vampires.”

Shiro felt like he’d been doused in ice. “They’d kill me.”

Lotor nodded stiffly.

“Drain your blood and then throw you in the trash like you were nothing,” Lotor hissed.

Shiro started stroking King’s fur, the repetition offering a bit of comfort. Slowly, Lotor seemed to relax, his muscles unclenching.

“I’ve been considering our options,” Lotor said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“The witch likely sees you as either my ally or as a way to get to me, so I don’t doubt for a moment she’ll send one of her creatures or experiments after you. And as a human with no experience dealing with anything remotely magical or supernatural in origin, I believe that, right now, the safest place for you is with me.”

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Lotor paused with his mouth open, looking somewhat taken aback.

“You… agree with me?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “I mean, you’re right. I have no idea what you did back there with the salt and weird chanting, or anything about vampires or Hellhounds or witches. And if I’m in danger, you’re probably my best bet if I want to stay alive.”

Lotor looked him over before huffing and crossing this arms. “Perhaps someday, I’ll actually stop being surprised by you.”

Shiro grinned and felt his cheeks heat up. God, he hoped he wasn’t blushing.

He shook his head. “Anyway, I was involved the moment you told me humanity was in danger. I’m not the kind of person to sit back and do nothing with that kind of information.”

Lotor arched one of his stupidly perfect white eyebrows. “And what were you planning to do with that information? Most humans wouldn’t believe a word of it, not without proof.”

“Keith would,” Shiro said. “He’s… an old friend of mine, back from my military days. He works for some government agency now, but he’s my best bet of getting the word out to the people who can do something about this. Humanity deserves a chance to fight for itself.”

Lotor frowned. “And I suppose you’ll want me there, when you tell him. To prove you’re not insane.”

Shiro grinned. “Keith would believe me, even if you weren’t there, but having proof couldn’t hurt. Assuming, of course, that you’ll go.”

Lotor huffed, then smiled. “I already said we should stick together, didn’t I?”

Shiro smiled back at him.

“Alright, then. Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

Sounds like a plan, Shiro had said, though they had yet to do much planning. After sending an email asking to meet with his ‘old friend,’ Shiro went off to board up the front window with plywood, while Lotor cleaned himself up and changed for the second time that day. As he watched the darkened blood wash down the drain, he contemplated his and Shiro’s conversation.

Introducing humanity to the supernatural world hadn’t been something Lotor had considered in much detail. It was a far off dream, of sorts, but not one he could worry himself with while he was trying to stop Zarkon and Haggar, and put his own plans into action. But Shiro had given him an intriguing opportunity to start setting a foundation for the future.

Assuming, of course, that Shiro’s ‘old friend’ was any help at all. Lotor tried not to feel unsettled over the way Shiro had talked about the man; a kind of confidence that spoke of a deep, knowing sort of relationship. It made Lotor’s shoulder’s tense in discomfort and an unreasonable sort of irritation towards a man he’d never even met.

Logically, he knew it was an irrational reaction. He had no connection to Shiro beyond his own honor to repay a life debt. Shiro had saved his life and given him shelter, and Lotor had brought untold danger into his life. He was honor-bound to protect the man. It didn’t explain, though, why he felt so… annoyed at the thought of Shiro being so close to someone, perhaps even romantically involved with them. ‘Old friend’ could mean a lot of things, after all.

He knew why, of course. He wasn’t completely obtuse about his own emotions. He just didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he’d become far too attached to Shiro in far too short an amount of time. It made him feel unbalanced, his stomach clenching unpleasantly; and yet something made him want to stay close to him in a way that was almost frightening.

He shouldn’t feel this way.

He shouldn’t want, he shouldn’t hope, he shouldn’t care.

Unbidden, the memory of seeing Shiro’s head slamming against the wall came to the forefront of his mind. In that moment, Lotor hadn’t feared for his own life at all, but he’d been terrified that he’d just gotten Shiro killed. He’d never felt that way, not even for his team. He tried to reason that it was because he trusted the girls to handle themselves, but he wasn’t entirely successful at convincing himself of it.

He cared for his team, nearly considered them friends, but he maintained an emotional distance from them for a reason. They supported his plans and he could rely on them to get the job done, but that was the extent of their relationship. He couldn’t afford to care, not when that care could so easily be used against him.

So this closeness, this yearning, this damn near affection he felt for Shiro? It had him rattled to his very bones.

Lotor shook himself, mentally and physically forcing himself back into a semblance of equilibrium. He had things to do, and whatever these feelings for Shiro were had to be pushed aside. He had plans, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of them. He’d promised himself that long ago.

Settling back into his own skin, Lotor began strategizing. First things first, he needed to get in touch with Acxa to let her know how plans had changed. Her last cell phone had been destroyed and they had yet to replace it, and he couldn’t be sure that the other’s devices were secure anymore. He couldn’t risk anyone catching wind of his movements.

The old-fashioned way it is, then, Lotor thought.

He strode towards the front of the house, sticking close to the walls to avoid the light still peeking through the curtains. The last thing he needed was a nasty sunburn on top of everything else, not when Shiro would be unable to give him anymore blood for at least two weeks. Assuming, of course, Shiro stuck around that long.

He stopped next to the broken window where Shiro was busy hammering and knocked on the wall to get his attention. When the hammering stopped, he spoke.

“Shiro, could I borrow some things from your kitchen?”

“Yeah, sure, use whatever you need,” Shiro said, sounding slightly out of breath.

Ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the sound of Shiro’s voice—breathless and a little rough, Lotor turned and purposefully made his way to the kitchen. There, he grabbed the salt container he’d used earlier, the kitchen knife Shiro had grabbed, and a small bowl from the cabinet. He then walked to the bathroom, considering what he needed his generals to know while he poured a hefty amount of salt into the bowl and added a splash of water from the sink.

When he was certain about what he wanted to say, he used the kitchen knife to make a shallow cut across his palm, squeezing his hand into a fist and letting the blood drip into the salt and water mush he’d created. The cut healed quickly and Lotor mixed the blood and wet salt together with his bloody fingers before scooping up some of the concoction.

He began drawing two circles on the bathroom mirror, one inside the other. He then sketched out the symbols corresponding with the spell he began to whisper. Speculo. Sanguis. Iungo. Audite. Nuntius.

“Axca,” Lotor whispered, willing the spell to find her.

The salt and blood painted on the mirror began to glow a faint yellow and Lotor stared himself in the eye as he began to speak.

“Acxa, plans have changed. I will not be able to make the coven meeting, and need you to go on my behalf. After, go to the base with Zethrid, Narti, and Ezor. Ensure you are not followed. The witch is making a move, and she cannot become privy to our plans. Be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. I’ll contact you again soon.”

With that, he reached up and broke the outer circle with his finger, ending the spell.

“Um, what just happened?”

Lotor barely stopped himself from visibly startling at Shiro’s voice. He’d somehow managed to sneak up on Lotor, which meant either Shiro was far lighter on his feet than Lotor had realized, or that Lotor had let his guard down in Shiro’s home. Lotor didn’t like either of those options.

He turned his head towards Shiro to answer and nearly bit his tongue. Shiro had changed, at some point, into a thin, white t-shirt that was nearly see-through and looked about two sizes too small for his… rather defined physique. There was also a sheen of sweat on his face and his hair was slightly damp, which Lotor tried to convince himself was unseemly instead of vaguely arousing. He only barely stopped himself from staring at the way the worn, low-hanging jeans hugged Shiro’s hips and thighs.

Lotor swallowed, keeping his face blank as he could manage, and scolded his heart for its fluttering because he was not, in fact, a faint-hearted teenager with his first crush.

Lotor’s thought’s screeched to a halt. Crush? No. Definitely not. He was nearly 1,500 goddamned years old, he did not have a bloody crush. This wasn’t- it was- it was not a crush.

“It was a spell,” Lotor said, stuffing those ridiculous thoughts out of his mind, where they belonged. “To get a message to my second. It will appear to her and her alone the next time she looks into a reflective surface.”

“That’s… convenient,” Shiro said, coming closer and leaning against the doorframe. “So, what, you’re like a Disney prince or something? What with your megalomaniac father, glowing sword, and “mirror, mirror on the wall” schtick?”

“Oh, yes, and you’re my princess, what with your living in the middle of the woods and having many animal companions,” Lotor teased back automatically, surprising them both. Covering his own shock, he glanced down significantly to where three of Shiro’s dogs where standing behind him.

Shiro glanced back at them and then threw his head back, barking a laugh. “Yeah, okay, you got me there. But, seriously, that was magic? And that thing you did to your sword… that was a spell, too?”

“More an enchantment than a spell,” Lotor replied.

Shiro cocked his head—reminding Lotor, for one ridiculous moment, of one of Shiro’s dogs. Which wasn’t cute at all. “There’s a difference?”

“A simplified explanation is that enchantments are placed upon objects, usually weapons, and are typically meant to enhance or weaken the object in some way. While spells account for a great number of other magical work, including the one I just performed.”

Lotor paused, considering. “Well, actually, the reflection message is more an incantation ritual than a legitimate spell, though the argument could be made that incantations and ritual magic still fall under the larger category of spellwork, or magic weaving, as some still call it. The principles are similar, but different enough that it could still be argued they belong in separate groups.”

Shiro blinked owlishly at him. Once, twice.

“… Huh.”

Lotor felt embarrassment burn in his chest, up his neck and over his face, to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t believe himself, rambling on about magical categorization. What the hell was wrong with him? He never did this. He knew better than to bring up magic with anyone who wasn’t also a practitioner.

“I apologize,” he said stiffly, but before he could push on, Shiro interrupted with a look of startled concern.

“What? No, you don’t need to apologize,” Shiro said, standing straight and taking a step closer to Lotor. It brought him fully into the small bathroom, his broad frame making him look like he took up more room than Lotor logically knew he did. He felt unreasonably claustrophobic. “I just don’t really have any frame of reference for what you’re talking about, so I don’t get it, and I also don’t want to look like a dumbass by acting like I know shit about magic. I mean, I’ve never even read Harry Potter, not that real magic is like that, just. Nevermind. What I’m trying to say is that what you said sounds interesting, and I’d love to hear more about it, but you’d have to explain… a lot, because I don’t know anything about magic.”

This time, it was Lotor’s turn to blink owlishly.

“You… would want to learn about magic?” Lotor asked, hesitant. Wary.

One side of Shiro’s mouth ticked up into a grin. “I mean, if you’re willing to teach me.”

Warmth curled pleasantly in Lotor’s stomach, replacing the sick feeling of embarrassment. He cleared his throat before returning Shiro’s grin with a hesitant smile of his own. Shiro’s smile only grew in response, his eyes crinkling charmingly. Lotor found himself leaning closer, that warm feeling in his stomach growing and spreading throughout his body. Like a plant reaching for the sun’s life giving rays.

Lotor’s smile grew the tiniest bit. What a silly thought.

“I would like that,” Lotor said, his voice coming out lower, rougher than he intended.

Shiro’s smile softened into something that Lotor couldn’t put a name to. He watched, transfixed, as Shiro’s gaze turned searching, his body rocking forward the tiniest bit closer to Lotor’s. Their eyes remained locked, and, for a moment, Lotor thought he might do something incredibly stupid. And, for a moment, he did not care one bit.

Shiro opened his mouth and breathed in deeply to speak, but before Lotor could find out what the man was going to say, a loud jingle sounded, startling them both out of the tense moment. Shiro cursed under his breath, digging into his pocket and pulling out a smartphone.

While Shiro was distracted checking his phone, Lotor straightened and squared his shoulder, composing himself after his… slip. It was far too easy for him to drop his guard around Shiro, to let himself follow his emotions. He needed to be more careful.

By the time Lotor pulled himself together and away from Shiro, Shiro had finished checking whatever message he’d received on his phone.

“That was Keith,” Shiro said, sticking his phone back into his pocket. “He agreed to meet with me in D.C. in three days.”

“We will have to travel and meet him between dusk and dawn. I cannot go out in direct sunlight.”

“Will sunlight really kill you?” Shiro asked. “That’s a real thing for vampires? Or… half-vampires?”

“I’d have to be exposed for at least a few hours of direct sunlight to die from it, but any amount will burn me severely, and the more injuries a receive, the more blood I need to heal. And I cannot risk taking more from you so soon.”

Shiro nodded. “Alright, then. We’ll travel during the night and get a motel during the day. We’ll have to leave tonight if we want to make it to D.C. in time. I’ll need to make some calls first, and pack…”

Shiro paused and looked Lotor up and down. “I guess you’ll be stuck wearing my clothes for a while longer. Sorry. We can hopefully find something in my closet that’ll fit better?”

Lotor looked down at the still-ripped-and-bloody shirt and too-short sweat pants he was sporting and then glanced back up at him, amused. “That would be appreciated.”

Shiro smiled and walked backwards out of the bathroom. “Come on, I’ll show you my closet.”

He turned down the hall and Lotor followed after him, but not before he caught his own gaze in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes at his reflection before clearing his face of any expression.

He needed to get a grip. He couldn’t keep getting swept up in Shiro’s orbit. He needed to distance himself, to push these feelings aside and concentrate on his end goals instead of allowing himself to get all mixed up inside over a human he hadn’t even known for 24 hours.

He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his plans, not even his own emotions.