(On Hold) I Won't Kill You, But I Don't Have To Save You

Chapter 5

I listened to music when I wrote this, so Idkk i have soo many songs I would suggest but  I can't decide which so I just picked whatever. hope you enjoy ! :DD

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Chapter 5

If I was your Vampyre

The Doc scratched his head, thinking, looking at the chemical bottles littered around his desk, which one held the medicine he needed. Mikeal and he had departed after leaving Elsa in the basement infirmary. Something about going to speak to Sire about what to do with Elsa.

The young Doc rummaged around his room, papers flying all around until he reached under his desk and found what he was searching for.

His cry of Eureka was cut off as he stood to get up only to bang himself with the table of his desk. An unmanly scream escaped him, covering him mouth in embarrassment he froze.

A chuckle came from behind him. He jumped, again slamming his head to the table.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised, Doc. Nice howl by the way,” said a voice behind him.

Docs growled, rubbing his head, while his animal side appearing. 

“Oh shut it, Dorian.” Doc shot back, moving back to his disorganized mess, sitting down trying to put everything back in place. Rummaging through random papers in this desk, he didn’t have to look up to know Dorian’s presence from the window had shifted to the coach by the wall.

The Vampyre looked around the untidy room, finding the liquor cabinet; he opened it up, taking a swing of his finest whisky.

The Doc raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on his old friend, always one for a small glass of whine before bed, while Dorian just took the bottle for himself.

“So the girl? How is she? Last I saw her she was falling off the side of a wall this morning.” Dorian took another shot, and then turned to look at Doc with the answer to his question.

What the...? Shaking his head at his friend’s blunt statement, he smiled.

Still shifting through papers and bottles, Doc answered him, “Well, she’s here in the building, down in the basement, recovering from her fight with the Fortunate.” He finished with a grim look.

Dorian didn’t even move.

Slouching in the sofa, one foot resting at the arm on the end, the other on the floor, one arm on the top of the davenport, while the opposite, gripped the bottle. Calmness easing out of him in waves.

 The Doc envied Dorian’s calm structure. Although, he knew why he had to stay impassive sometimes, while the other half he was the goofball everyone knew him to be. Dorian’s need would kick in and it would hit him as hard as a freight train if he didn’t always keep himself in check. The Doc would insert him a serum, but this would prevent him from breaking out in a rampage like many new vamps under a century old would do.

“Hmm,” he answered, his head rolled back bottle in mouth. A Vampyre’s metabolism is different than humans. They can drink 12-packs of beer and not even feel a buzz; super bowl weekend was a perfect excuse to test that theory out.  Dorian was drinking one of his ‘special bottles’; on this he would get the tipsy feeling.

The Doc let the quietness sink in, Dorian had no problem, just sitting back and relaxing.

Until the phone rang, breaking the silence. Doc moved to get it, but apparently not fast enough as Dorian stood with the phone in his hand, leaning against his desk.