Run Like the Devil • L.S. • Larry Supernatural AU

Chapter 2

There's a nest of vampires in southern Oregon. It's a pretty routine job, but it's Liam's first encounter with more than one at once, and Louis' a little edgy. He spends a couple of hours sitting on the hood of the Camaro and sharpening the machetes, until the barest brush of his thumb to the edge slits through the skin, and he has to suck on it for a few minutes to stop the bleeding. They have some dead man's blood, but not enough for more than two vamps, three at most. Signs point to this being a pretty big pack, although new to the area; probably bled their last location dry, or else got chased off.

Louis carefully slips the machetes back into their slots and locks the trunk. It's approaching noon, and he's starting to sweat through his shirt; the heat's getting him agitated.

There's nothing really left to do except wait for nightfall and behead some vampires, which he's never liked. As if their weird superior attitude weren't enough, killing them has to be messy.

He buys a six pack at a gas station a little ways from the motel they're at, walking both there and back and getting increasingly tetchy and overly-hot. By the time he gets back to the room, his bad mood is full-fledged and ready to sink its teeth into the next thing that annoys him.

Liam takes a can when Louis silently offers it, and they sit quietly for a blessed moment, before Liam stops frowning and says, "What time is it?"

Liam wears a watch. A ridiculous, expensive watch that Louis has on more than one occasion considered stealing and pawning and blaming it on motel staff, except Liam's not stupid and Louis wouldn't, not really.

Still, he finds himself glaring at it sometimes. It's ostentatious, even if it does add credibility to Liam's fed act. That and the actual Fed thing. Louis has to very consciously not think about Liam having been a cop, let alone the cop who'd been on a vendetta against him until last year. Anyway. Liam has a watch, is the point, and it is very reliable and doesn't break because it's expensive and money makes things work. Liam has no real reason to be asking what time it is, because he would know far better than Louis, given the watch ticking steadily on his wrist.

Rolling the rim of the can over his bottom lip, Louis considers his response for a moment before just giving in to his foul mood and snapping, "I don't fucking know, do I? If you're going to bitch at me about drinking, save it. I'll be sober by the time we go out."

Liam reels back slightly. "I know that. It's just early, is all."

Louis rolls his eyes, gesturing at the open curtains with his free hand. "Excellent observational skills. They teach you that at Quantico?"

He'd put money on Liam having his kicked puppy face on, but he doesn't want to look at him, and he stares fixedly out the window into the mostly-empty parking lot. He's really not in the mood for Concerned Liam; bitterly, he thinks at least Zayn never got on my case about drinking.

"Okay," Liam says, in a fake-apology tone that lets Louis know Liam thinks he's being unreasonable, which makes him even more annoyed. "Excuse me for caring about your health."

"You're not my mom," Louis retorts, aware that the pitch of his voice is climbing steadily, and if it gets much higher he'll be in shrill territory.

"No, I'm not," Liam says, slowly and carefully. He does kind of sound like Louis' mom, is the thing, needling at him to eat his carrots and wear a helmet and stay on the sidewalk, and it gets right under Louis' skin, like a scalpel, immediate and agonizing. "I'm your...I'm trying to be a good friend."

"We're not friends," Louis says, immediately, even though that's not true. "We're hunting partners, okay? If it's not interfering with the hunt, it's not your damn business, capiche?"