dorian & godric
Christ, how Dorian hated Texas.
It was the best and worst of America. There still was so much space, plenty of towns barely hanging on, hardscrabble little places that were trying to make their move, the drive and determination and chutzpah that Dorian adored of the America in the past. America in the 1920s was great. A feisty nation, determined to prove itself on the world's stage, bright and brilliant and ready to take on the challenge.
But the Texas cities? The cities were horrible. Large, ugly things almost crushed under the weight of their own self-importance and overpasses. Forgotten centers where all residents fled to cookie-cutter nigh identical houses set in towns created solely for the purpose of commuting. People didn't thrive in places like that, with their subdivisions and big box stores and fucking Targets. You lived there, but you didn't thrive. And Dorian Gray was always looking for something new, something bright and breathing and alive.
Granted, a shitty little dive bar wasn't exactly what most people thought of when they thought of 'alive.' But Dorian had been lingering around Dallas long enough that a few things had gained his interest. The coming out of the closet, so to speak, of vampires had been the big one. Idly, he wondered what Toby would have thought of it all—he felt so alone for so long. Would vampire advocacy groups or these cute little pamphlets have changed anything? Or would the Sunday morning cable news services about how all vampires are damned have made things worse? There's no way of knowing. But Dorian wanted to learn more about this himself.
Try as he may to fit in, it's obvious that Dorian is here for something. He flirts with the waitress and casually asks a few questions about vampire activity in the area. He loses a game of pool but presses his competition whenever they bring up 'fangs.' This is the third day in a row he's made some not-so-subtle inquiries about vampires, something's got to give eventually. He's British as hell, the accent is a dead giveaway, so might as well lean into the obviousness and see what happens.
And as he slips out of the back door of the dive bar, stepping outside to light up a cigarette, Dorian's certain that something will happen. What precisely? He doesn't know.
It was the best and worst of America. There still was so much space, plenty of towns barely hanging on, hardscrabble little places that were trying to make their move, the drive and determination and chutzpah that Dorian adored of the America in the past. America in the 1920s was great. A feisty nation, determined to prove itself on the world's stage, bright and brilliant and ready to take on the challenge.
But the Texas cities? The cities were horrible. Large, ugly things almost crushed under the weight of their own self-importance and overpasses. Forgotten centers where all residents fled to cookie-cutter nigh identical houses set in towns created solely for the purpose of commuting. People didn't thrive in places like that, with their subdivisions and big box stores and fucking Targets. You lived there, but you didn't thrive. And Dorian Gray was always looking for something new, something bright and breathing and alive.
Granted, a shitty little dive bar wasn't exactly what most people thought of when they thought of 'alive.' But Dorian had been lingering around Dallas long enough that a few things had gained his interest. The coming out of the closet, so to speak, of vampires had been the big one. Idly, he wondered what Toby would have thought of it all—he felt so alone for so long. Would vampire advocacy groups or these cute little pamphlets have changed anything? Or would the Sunday morning cable news services about how all vampires are damned have made things worse? There's no way of knowing. But Dorian wanted to learn more about this himself.
Try as he may to fit in, it's obvious that Dorian is here for something. He flirts with the waitress and casually asks a few questions about vampire activity in the area. He loses a game of pool but presses his competition whenever they bring up 'fangs.' This is the third day in a row he's made some not-so-subtle inquiries about vampires, something's got to give eventually. He's British as hell, the accent is a dead giveaway, so might as well lean into the obviousness and see what happens.
And as he slips out of the back door of the dive bar, stepping outside to light up a cigarette, Dorian's certain that something will happen. What precisely? He doesn't know.

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"I have no idea what you mean."
He hands the phone to Stand behind him, who glowers at Dorian but plugs the phone into the wall for him.
Godric reaches over to take Dorian's hand instead. His grip is loose, weak, and as he leans in, the light shows how much paler he is than even the night before.
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Dorian gives Godric's hand a little squeeze before leaning in to whisper, "You're coming back to mine tonight—and I won't take no for an answer."
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"You are quite comfortable giving me orders," he says with a half smile. He doesn't agree, but he doesn't need to. He knows he will go.
He gestures for someone to join them and a vampire kneels in front of Godric, giving Dorian a quick cautious look. His blue eyes seem to shine more through olive skin, offset by dyed blond hair that seems perpetually out of place.
"Godric," he says, looking between the two nervously. "I want permission to change my girlfriend."
He gestures for another person to join them. The girl walks up, clearly intoxicated, tripping over herself as she leans against him. "Hi," she chirps, popping gum in her perfect teeth. She isn't any older than twenty, black braids all the way down to her hips.
Godric tilts his head. "What's your name?"
"Sky," she answers and giggles, this time with a tinge of nerves.
"Sky, stay here with me. Edward, you can go. I will have an answer when I have finished questioning her."
The vampire scampers off to another room. Back to the main party.
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"I can smell the alcohol on your breath, you know. I sincerely hope you two talked about this when you were sober."
Godric is the sheriff here—Dorian is well aware what he says goes. But he'll at least offer his two cents before the actual conversation starts and he'll shut up for a moment. Dorian knows damn well he can't judge anyone who wants to seek immortality...but he can certainly judge them if they're making the decision while plastered.
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"Oh yeah. We talked a lot about it."
Godric takes Dorian's hand, not chiding him at all for speaking. He looks up to her. "Why do you want this?"
"Because we're in love," she answers, grinning as she clutches her bag close to her. "Because I want to be in love forever and ever."
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He looks over back to Godric before asking, "Might I have your permission to do something...unorthodox?"
If she rats to her boyfriend, best to make sure this is above board.
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"It's a bond that lasts all eternity. Now does someone as young, as vibrant, as beautiful as you want that bond? I can't judge."
He leans in towards her ear, breath on her neck, indulging in the intimacy.
"But surely you want to at least indulge more. To see what's out there before settling down."
Dorian is just blatantly flirting. He doesn't know if he'll get kissed or get slapped, but it's worth a shot.
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Her eyes widen slightly and she looks to Godric, who watches impassively.
"I...uh," she stammers as she looks to him and then backs away.
"What is this?"
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"Forget him," Dorian purrs, though he keeps his distance between himself and the girl. "I can have a car for us here in moments. We'll leave this drab little party and I can show you some real fun. I've got a pair of diamonds that would look lovely on your ears and some champagne that I'd love to taste on your lips."
Is this a dick move? Absolutely. But is Dorian a good person to begin with? Absolutely not.
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Godric sees his plan but makes no move to stop him. He just sits back with a shrug.
"He isn't a vampire, but he's telling the truth."
She looks between them again and stammers a bit. "But...what about..."
Godric lifts his fingers. "You have so much life ahead of you. You are young. Beautiful. If you want to have a good time, then do it. Dorian's lovely, isn't he? You'd like to take him up on his offer?"
She just giggles nervously and tucks her hair behind her ears. "Yeah. I mean...yeah."
Godric nods and stands. "Then go enjoy the party."
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"Shall I go with her? Or do you wish for me to stay with you for a while?"
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...aaaand seeing that Godric is rubbing his forehead and muttering something Dorian doesn't understand, he'll lean in and whisper,
"I'm sorry if I made things a hassle for you."
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"That was a clever trick," he assures him as he sits back.
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"I'm not just a pretty face, after all. I can be useful if I so choose—it's that 'if I so choose' that's the problem."
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Whether anything will happen after an evening together and a quick hook-up, Dorian doesn't know. But he might as well use this to have a little fun.
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He sits back and looks up at him. "And don't get attached. If he changes her after I have told him no, then I will have to kill her."
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Dorian knows he can't keep his immortality fully under wraps for long. But it's a useful trump card to have when dealing with all this vampiric nonsense.
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"You have to be special in some way to have caught my attention," he says, reaching out a hand for him. "I have never taken a human companion before."
He shrugs. "Perhaps they think you are some strange fae-like creature."
Not a faerie, for obvious reasons.
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"I know. That's what worries me," he says with a teasing laugh. He doesn't notice when blood begins to form at his ears, trailing down his neck.
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"Darling," he idly asks, keeping his tone light and casual, "pardon the rude question, but is bleeding from the ears something vampires normally do? Because you seem to be doing it."
This isn't normal, Dorian knows that. But he doesn't know if this is a 'Godric is sick' level of normal or a 'somebody's trying to fuck with Godric' level of normal.
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He stands up again and shakes his head. "It has been a while since I've fed, that's all. It happens."
He finds a towel and cleans himself off, but he knows it won't stop.
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