Chapter Text
When Jonathan came into the living room, the first thing he saw was Dracula. Settled in the red sofa chair, a book in his lap. He was framed by the soft falling snow and forest outside of their home, and the moonlight beams caressed his skin. He was a dark stain on the virgin white landscape.
He's beautiful, Jonathan's inner voice let him know.
Shut up right now, Jonathan told it sternly.
If an inner voice could smirk, he was pretty sure his would at that moment. He really should have left, carefully step outside and make sure Dracula doesn't catch him staring at him. But…he couldn't. He couldn't leave, he wanted to stay and watch. See the minuet changes on Dracula's face as he flipped the pages, the way he snorted softly in disgust and sometimes caressed the book's cover a bit like he caresses Jonathan's cheek. Back and forth, back and forth.
See? Beautiful.
I thought I told you to shut up.
When had he started thinking that Dracula was beautiful? Jonathan leaned his head against the wall and kept on watching his...his…Shaking his head, Jonathan pushed the thought of what Dracula was to him out of his mind. Instead, he thought about how Dracula had jumped into a frozen lake with him a few days earlier, and how they spent hours exploring the bottom of the lake. Dracula had taken his hand the whole time. He hadn't let go for a moment.
And Jonathan hadn’t tried to push him away. When had that happened? At what point had he stopped caring about the monster Dracula truly was? He fed from children, from teenagers. He tortured humans when he was bored, he enjoyed swimming around in pools of blood. Pain was fun for him, inflicting it on other was nearly orgasmic.
And Jonathan didn't care anymore. He didn't see any of these things- Dracula knew better then to show Jonathan his worst sides. But he had known they exist from day one (well, Dracula had killed him…so his monstrosity had been rather hard to miss). He'd always known, it used to keep him up during the day. He used to want to escape, used to spend his time dead inside.
He did. Not. Care. Anymore.
Dracula flipped a page on the book, shuffling it a bit, so Jonathan could see the cover. It was the fourth Twilight book. Oh fuck. Not this again.
*
He waited for another bonfire. He waited for an explosion of fury, maybe for Dracula to demand they travel for America to kill the writer (again. He was sick of that fight). He didn't get that.
What he got were a few quiet days, with Dracula moving around calmly and entirely silent. He touched Jonathan softly, caressing his skin as if he was made out of porcelain.
Jonathan didn't tell him that he found him reading the book. Sometimes it was better to quietly watch and wait. Dracula was a talker: Jonathan just had to wait.
It happened three nights later. They were laying in bed together, Jonathan almost asleep, yawning, when Dracula sighed and curled around Jonathan's back, holding him close. Jonathan chewed his lip. This was the time to speak.
"You know, I thought I was going to have to deal with another bonfire," He mumbled, turning around in Dracula's arms to look him in the eye. "So. Was it the pedophilia?"
"Hmm?" Dracula frowned.
"In the book," Jonathan clarified. "You always find one thing that drives you fucking crazy. Was it the pedophilia? Because whatever you try to say, falling in love with a baby and not being able to be away from her for more then a few hours is pedophilia-"
"Yes, that was quite…something," Dracula nodded, but he seemed pretty distracted. "I don't think I want to feed from her, my love. Those types of thoughts are truly not the sort I want in my head-"
"Dracula," Jonathan sat up, placing a hand on Dracula's chest. "What are you thinking about?"
The vampire frowned and caressed Jonathan's hand. He didn't reply.
"Dracu-"
"My love," Dracula whispered, sitting up. He cupped the back of Jonathan's neck and kissed him, softly and gently.
Jonathan swallowed, "Yes?"
"It was the dhampir," Dracula told him softly. "It doesn't work."
Blinking, Jonathan replied, "What doesn't work?"
"Vampires and humans cannot procreate," Dracula mumbled, pulling Jonathan into his chest (so that Jonathan couldn't see his face). "I tried. Can't be done."
I tried. Jonathan clutched Dracula closer.
He'd wanted it.
What the fuck.