almightythirst | Open Post

[ Preceded by this monster of a thread. ]

It's fortunate they got a room facing away from the rising sun. The light never slips farther than the barest of slits closest to the window, dancing across the table and then fading away once midday passes. Evening creeps on and the sun dies behind a ridge of buildings in the distance, and Hanzo begins to stir in a most unfamiliar way.

There are arms, cool and bare, pressed close. A body lain against him, but no mere corpse. This one has all the familiar, comfortable scents that he's marked as a part of this journey across the country, tobacco and leather over the faint strains of preserved flesh and slow-flowing blood.

Tomorrow.

It's already here, the moment they could enjoy this for what it was without consequence has passed, and he quietly contemplates how easily he can slip away without rousing Jesse immediately. He'll be up before long, but...better to start steeling himself now for what was to come. Akande's visit, Reaper's attack, the meaning of the mask recovered at the killings of certain family members, all of that had to come before whatever this wound up being.

Much as he was loath to, the elder vampire began to try and pull loose of both Jesse and the covers, as quietly as possible.

Jesse is prone to “sleeping in” a little as a vampire, but it’s been years since he fell asleep with someone in his arms. He’s had time to get used to people he trusts moving around in his space as he rests. That he can sleep through. But Hanzo’s quiet, careful movement beside him has his eyes blinking open almost straight away.

Hard to believe that the night before had actually happened, from start to finish: Akande. Reaper. This. But the reminders linger, from the ache of his healing skin, to his ever-insistent hunger, to the sight of Hanzo in his bed. It’s no question which of them is the more pleasant of the three. And the most fleeting.

Jesse toys with the idea of tightening his grip. Making it a little harder for Hanzo to slip away. In the end, he manages his impulses and lets Hanzo go without resistance.

“You ever not been an early-bird?” he asks without making a move to get up himself. He simply lays back and watches his sire, eyes still bleary from sleep, hair mussed, something warm in his gaze that hadn't been there upon waking on any other evening.

Of course it wouldn't matter how delicately he tried to extricate himself. Hanzo turned his head, peering back over his shoulder for a moment before huffing. Reaching for the band that had been tossed aside last night to draw his hair up from his shoulders.

Just seeing that glow of satisfaction in Jesse's eyes twists something in his gut. He's not sure he cares for the feeling.

"Our time to conduct ourselves in the evenings is limited to begin with. And we have much to see to." A stern reminder that he does still intend on carrying on as before, taking care of things with Talon and their continued journey across the country.

But. He hesitates in moving completely out of the bed, remaining there at the edge. Even if he reached for his clothes, he has the feeling he'd feel every bit as naked with them on. There's this uncomfortable sense that something's shifted unexpected, and he has no comprehension of how to deal with it.

Beyond not dealing with it at all. Which. Hasn't gone all that well, has it?

Jesse hums his assent, watching Hanzo in silence a moment longer before he moves to sit up. It’s slow going—slower than it should be, thanks to a certain someone and his shotguns.

The elder vampire is right that they don’t have time to sit around. They could have been tracked here by now, and with Jesse in this state, feeding quickly is a priority. Then there’s deciding their next move. Choosing which thread to follow.

Still. Jesse watches Hanzo tie his hair up, and the small, innocuous movement reminds him of something else. Like the first piece of armor being fitted back into place after a moment’s reprieve. It’s not the best feeling, for the morning to have gone this way, but what was the alternative?

Jesse huffs a quiet laugh, shakes his head, then slips across the bed to get out on the same side Hanzo is sitting on. His hand rests on his sire’s shoulder, squeezing gently before he uses it as leverage to get himself standing.

“I vote breakfast first. Won’t be much good to anybody ‘til I eat.”

'Morning'. 'Breakfast'. The ideas still stick with the younger vampire, don't they? Those tethers of a life once lived that he hasn't quite let go of, and truthfully? He wouldn't be quite the same once he did. There is something so decidedly human in him still, past the hunter and the demon and the undead curse Hanzo laid upon him when he first laid fangs into him. None of those things can touch that spark, it seems. Even now.

It's the thing that draws him in, perhaps, when he knows better. The thing that tightens in his still, silent chest when those fingers grasp his shoulder. Hanzo's dark eyes follow Jesse's movement as he draws himself free of the bed first, taking a moment for himself to simply center himself.

Last night was--

It doesn't matter, now.

"True. I do not suppose there is hope of finding something on our way out of town?" he murmurs in reply, finally drawing himself up to go retrieve his clothing. Might as well prepare for the quick retreat.

For all the good it will do. If Akande found him here, and Reaper found Jesse elsewhere, it is likely they will know where to follow them if they so desired. Better to decide on where to go next once they're on the road again.

“Only if we can make it quick. Otherwise, hope you don’t need me doing any fancy footwork before we get to the next place.”

Jesse is quick about gathering up his clothes, but there’s no hesitation in the way he moves without them. Hanzo had made it more than clear the night before that he didn’t mind Jesse’s scars. Or anything else about the look of him, for that matter. He smiles privately to himself as he slips back into his jeans and buttons up his shirt.

It does matter. It matters a lot, even if neither of them will talk about it just yet.

Hopefully Hanzo doesn’t intend for that to last forever though, because it won’t. If it wasn’t for the circumstances, Jesse would have broached the subject already.

“Afraid I don’t know this area so well. Wasn’t exactly a planned stop.”

He sits down a bit heavily in one of the chairs, and checks his phone with a quiet curse. He hadn’t thought to charge it before almost dying.

“We’ll have to just wing it from here.”

He's midway through pulling his shirt on when he notices the soft huff of breath, and sees Jesse staring at his phone. Well. They're not going to have time to wait for it to charge, at this point. However...

"It would be wise to change vehicles. Clearly, they know what this one looks like. Perhaps we could find one that could also see to that." He nods towards the device before returning to pulling his shirt into place, smoothing out the fabric.

"And, perhaps, strike two birds with one stone."

Travelers exchanging cars would be a prime opportunity. People out of their element that could be diverted for long enough to provide a quiet drink for both of them. Though Jesse clearly needed it more, given the injuries he'd manage to sustain the night prior. His own encounter with Akande had been...

Civil. It makes him wonder. The goodwill offering of information had certainly come at an interesting time.

The loss of the truck stings, but he knows Hanzo is right. In the life of a hunter (and, it would seem, the life of a vampire), there’s little room for getting sentimental over things. You always have to be ready to throw away what you can’t carry on your own back. Cars are easy enough to replace.

“Lookin’ for an upgrade?” Something with a USB hookup would be more useful than the outdated truck, even if Jesse prefers the simpler style. Again, no room for that kind of thinking when you’re talking survival.

At that, he looks up from his dead phone and casts a curious glance Hanzo’s way.

“I think I can guess at the birds you’re talkin’ about. And if there’s not the right sort around that just so happens to have a nice car we can ‘trade’?”

‘Right sort’ meaning criminals, of course. Jesse has his code. If he has to drink human blood, it has to be a certain type. Turns out he's a lot pickier about his meals as a vampire than he ever was as a human.

It makes a difference when you feed to kill. And Jesse's thirst is unlike any he's known in one of their kind before. When that weighs on your conscience with every feeding, being choosy makes sense.

"Fortunately, bad men and desirable cars have long been a fashionable pairing." One eyebrow arches in his fledgling's direction, before he starts to gather their things together. What little had been unpacked, at least. This was always a temporary stop, a detour neither had anticipated.

In more ways than one.

In ways that still ache, bone-deep, and it's a small blessing that he's always had a magnificent poker face. Otherwise, it'd be impossible to stop from staring like some doe-eyed idiot.

Hard to argue with that logic. Jesse’s answering smile is touched with a bit of playful humor as he watches Hanzo gather up the last of their things. Once that's more or less done, he eases himself up out of the chair, his phone disappearing into a back pocket.

“That your way of saying you want to see me in a nice car?” He hefts his bag up onto his shoulder and waits near the door, watching Hanzo again that new warmth in his eyes. Might be he hasn’t known the other man that long in the grand scheme of things, but he knows enough by now to guess what might be going on under that poker face. And unlike Hanzo, he’s not so inclined to use his own. Not for this.

Hanzo's response is simply to roll his eyes, not even dignifying that with a response, before sweeping past McCree and out into the night. There are still tinges of red staining the edge of the horizon, but it's well and truly dark now, the streetlamps leaving pools of light along the parking lot.

Hopefully, Jesse will have his mind firmly on the hunt. This town is small, barely what one would call a city, but large enough to have a criminal element to prey upon. And his instinct for hunting has always been extraordinary, even before he was one of them.

As for Hanzo? Well. He could use a bite himself. Last night was taxing, all the way through to the end, and if there's more than one out there sordid enough to earn death at their hands? So much the better.

The sound of Jesse’s laughter follows Hanzo out the door, and the rest of him comes along right after it. It really is better they feed now. He hasn’t indicated as much yet, but with his hunger and the lingering effects of his wounds, his focus is shot. There’s no promising he won’t run them right off the road in this state if it continues for much longer.

Of course they find some worthy prey. Small-time, but still wicked enough to warrant the attentions of two vampires. And their vehicle— another truck— is just the sort of small-town-rich to be expected in a tiny place like this one. It’s gawdy and too polished in one old cowboy’s opinion. Not a speck of dust on the chrome. At least it’s got several USB ports. And seat warmers. For some reason.

“Probably don’t need half the buttons on his dash,” he mutters after they throw their things into the backseat and get settled in.

Laughter. To think they were in such dire straits just the night before, and he has the audacity to laugh. If the sound didn't warm something deep in his chest, he'd feel more than a little annoyed about it.

However, it has been a long, long time since his nights had laughter of any kind.

They don't quite hunt together, but it's a close thing. Two victims in close proximity, up to the same nonsense, and it's a meal nearly shared. Of course the fresh intake of blood brings with it the sense of restoration, old blood stirring quick and hot with the new. But even as he licks his lips Hanzo is beginning to think it pales in comparison with what they share.

As many times now as they've feed on one another, breaking that most basic of rules of their kind, he is beginning to understand why that rule stands in place. It is a rush like no other. He's never felt so strongly as he does when one takes from the other, and the little glimpses of emotion, memory, and feeling seem to be weaving a bond between them. That comes with inherent danger, of course. What happens when that bond must inevitably break? What comes when the blood of a human is no longer sufficient?

Things to consider as they settle in against leather seats, Hanzo reclining gracefully and observing Jesse's efforts to navigate the extraneous controls. "The young people do love their buttons. Give it time. It becomes more ridiculous the longer you go on."

Though he quietly reaches down and turns on the seat warmer on his side, while Jesse appears distracted by the illuminate dashboard.

The young people. Jesse almost makes a joke about it, but then it hits him all over again how old Hanzo is. It’s easy to act as if they are men of the same generation, close in age and shared experiences. There was some point where he had started to not think of Hanzo as something apart, but as a peer, and that bit of information had slipped into the background. In comparison, he’s closer to those ‘kids’ in age and experience than he is with the man sitting beside him.

Another reason why, while Hanzo ruminates on the effects of them drinking the other’s blood, Jesse does not. It’s been like this nearly since the beginning of his own undead life. Who’s to say that his preference for the blood of immortals isn’t normal? Or the way Hanzo’s pulls at him in particular?

“It’s not all bad. Looks like they got satellite radio on this thing.”

He fiddles with the controls just long enough to get something not too grating to play. Then it’s back to the business at hand, and to the consideration of their next move.

“So. Talon.”

They had never gotten around to the details of that conversation. Jesse’s phone, plugged in now, is set to direct them to the next medium-sized city. It’ll be a long drive. Plenty of time for catching up. With luck, things won’t end with another fight.

“What did they want with you?”

Of the subjects that could be broached, he was at least somewhat prepared for that one.

"Ostensibly, to provide information." Though he has a feeling now it was not as transparently orchestrated as it first seemed. But that was Talon, for you.

Hanzo settled back into his chair, eyes trailing to the lights passing by the window. "They have long sought an alliance. Though I have refused each time, they saw my taking a fledgling as an opportunity. Or a sign I might have changed my mind. There were rumors of my family they offered, in exchange for my continued consideration of their offer."

The oni mask. He's curious, he can't deny that. But now isn't the time to go chasing his family's ghosts, not with Jesse in tow.

Jesse frowns, considering this new information with a critical eye. It makes sense that a group like Talon would want Hanzo under their thumb: a skilled, powerful vampire discrete enough to be nearly untraceable.

The timing is the puzzling thing. Maybe it was as simple as Hanzo having taken on a fledgling. Jesse has no idea how the inner circles of vampire society think, and he hadn't been foolish enough as a solo hunter to get close enough to try.

Still. Something about it doesn’t sit right with him.

“What sort of rumors? They aren’t gearin’ up for another go at you, are they?”

"They are contending with a more immediate problem."

The photos are safely stowed, for now. But he will not forget them soon. The cheeky little salute, in particular, sticks out in his mind. Hanzo's expression pinches in displeasure.

"A masked assailant. One who hides his face behind a mask that once belonged to my family. I can only imagine their outrage."

He's not even the one under attack, and he feels slighted.

A masked assailant.

It’s a good thing they aren’t having this conversation face-to-face. Jesse has a good poker face— which he utilizes in quick order— but his surprise at that news is still too reflexive to immediately hide.

“And Talon cares about that why now?”

His hands and voice remain steady, his tone curious but not too much so. Careful. He has to be careful, even as dread sinks heavy into his stomach.

Good job, Jesse. Even Hanzo, honed and attentive as he is, doesn't seem to notice the shift. Instead he leans towards the window, one hand gesturing dismissively.

"They claim it is because any organization with that much power and influence hunting one of us is a concern to be monitored. And I would imagine that is a fraction of the reason for it."

Jesse would be prouder of his successful deception, had this been a lie he actually wanted keep up. And he has no illusions about this being a lie. That it’s by omission only doesn’t mean anything. His frown deepens, and he keeps his eyes trained steadily on the road ahead.

“But not the whole reason.”

He doesn’t like this. From top to bottom, it’s got the feel of something arranged in a particular shape. The sort you can’t see from down on the ground in the middle of it. Only the people who put it together from above know the whole picture. Jesse taps his fingers against the steering wheel in an erratic rhythm, considering all the parts they do know. Talon. Reaper. The man in the mask.

“They say anything else?”

"Of course not."

That much should be obvious. Talon is not in the habit of extending anything freely. This is a bribe, or an attempt to manipulate him, or something else entirely, but it would be beyond foolish to accept it as what it appears to be.

"There was some mention of you, but not by name. They know you are a hunter, and given your encounter with the Reaper...I'm certain the rest is known to them, by now."

He just can't think what difference it would make to them, one hunter over another.

Jesse nods once, expression neutral but tight around the edges as he lets the quiet hum of the radio fill the temporary silence. Thinking about Reaper again has his eyes lingering in places it doesn’t need to, the darkness around them oppressive even with his ability to see through it. Vampiric eyes can’t see everything there is to hide.

“Think it’s pretty clear the Reaper and Talon are workin’ together in some capacity.” Even though Jesse had thought the wraith had been working solo before. The fact that he’d been so off there is unsettling.

“And I don’t think Talon would give you that info about the guy in the mask unless they wanted you lookin’ into it. Or thought you knew more than you do.”

He’s thinking out loud, figuring Hanzo has come to the same conclusions already. It’s an old habit of his. Helps him think. He and Reyes had used to do the same thing, not unlike this.

Jesse’s hands tighten on the wheel, then loosen with a silent effort.

“We can either just ignore the whole thing, or do some digging.”

"It's too close to be coincidence," Hanzo agrees with a murmur, reaching up to lightly scratch at the edge of his beard. It's more a gesture of thought, habit, than actual need. Some bit of his more human tendencies creeping to the surface.

Gods forbid.

"Our first priority should be losing them as swiftly as possible. After that, I imagine they'll turn their attention to this masked menace in the hopes that I will go looking on my own." Knowing that, does he allow this? Does he give them that access to him of his own accord, on his terms?

Or does he wait for them to come searching once more?

Jesse knows which option he’d prefer, but this isn’t exactly his decision to make. It’s Hanzo they’re interested in. It’s his family involved, in one way or another. He spares the man beside him a quick glance, unsurprised that he can’t see a hint of what he might be thinking. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity. Though there does seem to be something more relaxed about him tonight... but the source of that feeling is hard to place.

“Your call. Though if we keep on the way we have been, it’s a sure thing we’ll be seein’ them around again before long.”

They wouldn’t have an element like Reaper on their side and just stand around. One way or the other, something will happen. They can either face it head-on or let it surprise them at some inopportune time.

“And personally,” he adds with a more relaxed smile. “I wouldn’t mind another trip to Japan myself. Didn’t get in much sightseein’ the last time I was there.”

"Have you so quickly tired of our journey across America?" Hanzo deadpans in turn, his gaze shifting towards Jesse without quite turning to look. "Who could imagine not wanting to drive eight hours without seeing civilization even once."

Not that he minds the quiet of the road, but it would be good to return to old territory and familiar things. Harder to stay off the radar? Possibly. But there's a longing that twines deep and rumbles, a sense of wanting to claim old soil that belongs to them.

Him.

The same, now. One could not be without the other.

is it vampire times?

it's a l w a y s vampire times

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