a series of sbi oneshots

The Sweetest Wine In Town

A/N this is the most fucked up shit i swear - amelia

Tommy floats. He knows that vampires in general are dangerous, and Wilbur especially is, but its easy to forget post-bite. Before the healing really kicks in and he comes down from the venom-high.

Wilbur makes it easy to forget in other ways too. He's not some snarling, feral, bloodthirsty nightmare being like all the stories make vampires out to be. He's gentle, he's kind, he laughs at Tommy's jokes, he sings him songs, he makes sure that Tommy gets home safe after they're done.

He dutifully pays the ten dollars that Tommy demands mostly as a joke at this point. He'd thought he was dead when Wilbur found him in that alley, but he's never been one to go down easily, or quietly, so he'd looked death straight in the eye and said: "if you give me ten bucks I'll let you bite me without a struggle."

And Wilbur had laughed, and he'd looked at Tommy with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips that didn't bare predator's fangs. "You've got a deal kid," he'd said, and Tommy was too scared and too stubborn to back out.

He'd been too scared and stubborn the next time Wilbur found him too. And the time after that. But Wilbur kept being gentle, he kept not killing Tommy, and he kept paying the ten dollars. And he kept staying until the venom-high was out of Tommy's system.

And eventually Tommy trusted him enough to tell him the way back to the shitty apartment he was staying in. And eventually Tommy trusted him enough to let Wilbur take him to the ludicrous fucking mansion that he was living in.

Rich prick.

He knows it too. Fucker is so goddamn smug about everything that makes Tommy stare with wide eyes. He's a fucking vampire why on Prime's green earth would he need a fancy ass kitchen?

Tommy lifts his head and lets it fall solidly onto Wilbur's shoulder. He's too out of it for a real headbutt, Wilbur gets the vibe anyway.

"What was that for?"

"You're a rich prick," Tommy mumbles into his shirt. It seems like way too much effort to pick his head back up.

Wilbur laughs and wraps his arms around Tommy. They're laying in the stupidly large, stupidly fancy bed--there are silk sheets, its ludicrous-- because Wilbur said that if Tommy was going to sleep he wasn't doing it on the couch. As if the couch is uncomfortable or something. Its the comfiest fucking couch Tommy's ever planted his ass on. He would happily live on that couch.

The bed is even nicer. Its unfair that Wilbur was right.

Tommy headbutts him again.

"I'm still a rich prick?" Wilbur asks mildly. He idly combs through Tommy's hair with his claws.

Tommy nods.

"The injustice," Wilbur says mournfully, "poor Tommy Innit, he has to suffer through dealing with me in all my rich prickiness."

"You should pay me double," Tommy mutters. "Tripple, even."

Wilbur laughs, far too loud. His shoulders are shaking and its moving Tommy's head an it makes him so dizzy. He groans, trying to force Wilbur's shoulder to be still. "Head," he whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart," Wilbur says more softly, he settles back into the bed and Tommy snuggles closer. "My bad. You okay?"

Tommy grunts affirmatively.

A few months ago, he would have called this recovered enough and let Wilbur take him home. Now he stretches out luxuriously and shoves his head under Wilbur's chin with a soft sigh.